


Not in Our Wheelhouse

by cutelittlekitty



Series: Not the Same As Canon [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Anal Sex, Car Sex, Complete, Destiel - Freeform, Humor, M/M, NSFW, Saving People Hunting Things, Skinny Dipping, after God and Amara go off, blowjob, bottom!Castiel, brotherly teasing, but no Mary resurrection and no brits, cannon-divergent from the end of season 11, dance competition, handjob, switch!castiel, switch!dean, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-05-24 16:10:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14957846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutelittlekitty/pseuds/cutelittlekitty
Summary: In order to gain access to a haunted theatre, Dean signs himself and Cas up to audition for the reality competition show Dancing All Night Cures Everything (DANCE).  There's just one small problem... neither of them knows how to dance.AN: chapters are episodic; no cliffhangers so decent places to take breaks :D





	1. Graceful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel get a bit more than they bargained for while Hunting a ghost!

"Dean..."

"Just a minute," the hunter replied, concentrating on what he was writing on the form.

"But Dean..."

"Almost done... there." Handing the form back to the girl behind the table and receiving a couple badges with the number 69 on them in exchange, he grabbed Cas's hand and pulled him through the throngs of people and into the building. Once inside, they headed toward the back looking for stairs going down. Finding them, they descended into the basement, pausing at the bottom while Dean affixed their numbered badges. "Heh, look at that; 69."

"Dean, why didn't you listen to me? I was trying to tell you; I can't dance," Castiel said, grudgingly letting the hunter pin the numbered badge onto his lapel.

"Neither can I," Dean replied with a shrug as he finished putting his own badge on his T-shirt. "Don't matter. We just needed to get inside to poke around, right? Find whatever that actress left her DNA on and torch it, then we're out. Probably won't even be here long enough for our number to get called, and even if we do have to dance, we can fake it. I've seen dirty dancing and thanks to Metatron you've got the movie in your head, right?"

"Not in my head, per se, but yes, I know it. However, just because we've seen it doesn't mean we can reproduce it."

"C'mon, man, you're an angel, you should be able to 'wing' it," he insisted, chuckling at his own pun, though Cas didn't seem to get the joke. "Besides, aren't all angels graceful?"

"Angels are full of grace, but graceful and grace full do not have the same connotation. Maybe we should find what we're looking for sooner rather than later. By the way, what are we looking for, exactly?"

"I told you, something with her DNA on it."

"...yes Dean, I am aware of that, but what? Where do we start looking? And how will we know when we've found it if we don't know what it is?"

"We start with her old dressing room. As for what it is, could be anything. My money's on a locket. There's a heart shaped one she's wearing in every photo when she's not in costume and it wasn't on the body when we torched it. C'mon, I think the dressing rooms are down here." 

Dean headed off, Cas following, trying to look like they were supposed to be there. This was a preliminary round; contestants weren't given dressing rooms until the 14 couples for the show were chosen. Most of the plain wood doors lined up one after the other down the hallway had no nameplates, but empty screw-holes where they would go once the rooms were assigned. In contrast, the gold star with bold silver letters outlined in black that decorated the last door on the right stood out like a beacon. Lily Vale; the up-and-coming actress who had hung herself over the stage 8 years ago. Since then, rumors of the place being haunted had kept the theatre closed until DANCE (Dancing All Night Cures Everything) rented it out for this season's show. Which, of course, was when the deaths started. Just two so far, but then, the show's crew had only been here a week.

 

*****

 

"What are you doing?" Dean hissed under his breath as Cas stood behind his partner, taking his arm and lifting it up over the angel's shoulder, resting the hand on the back of Cas's dark wavy hair then sliding his fingers lightly down the arm. Thank God he wasn't ticklish.

"Dirty dancing. Put your right arm over your stomach and give me your hand," Castiel smiled back, lips not moving as he spoke.

 _Leave it to Cas to take things literally,_ Dean thought as he was quickly spun out and pulled back in, tripping over his feet as Cas snapped them together, catching Dean before he could hit the floor and putting his right hand on Dean's waist, left and up and waiting. After a moment's confusion Dean put his right hand in Cas's, left hand on his shoulder. "Why the fuck am _I_ the chick?" he complained as Cas began moving them back and forth and he stumbled along, trying to keep up.

"I have perfect recall. It makes more sense for me to lead."

"We don't have to copy the dance move for move, we're winging it, remember?"

"I don't think it would be wise to manifest my wings at the moment. And of course we aren't copying move for move, you've barely managed to imitate a single step past the opening."

"Whatever. Just, no lift, alright?"

"But doing the lift in the dance at the end was the highpoint of the movie, wasn't it? We should do it."

"Dude, are you nuts? We're not trying to win here. And I _don't_ need to break my neck."

"Dean, we searched every inch of the dressing room and couldn't find anything. It could take days, weeks. We need an excuse to stay here, to keep looking and make sure no more humans die. Now, run at me and jump. Don't worry, I am stronger than my vessel looks," Castiel assured as he spun Dean out and released him, standing ready to catch him.

Stumbling to a halt at the end of the spin, Dean took a deep breath and started running toward Cas as he mumbled, "here goes nothing. God, please don't let me break my neck; Sammy would never let me live it down." Hoping he didn't look as stupid as he felt, he jumped, arms flung out.

"If you broke your neck you would most likely die, so it would be your body not letting you live it down, not Sam," Castiel commented as his hands grasped Dean's waist, guiding the momentum as he lifted the hunter above his head.

"Don't be so-oo-whoa-" Dean panicked as he passed the point of balance and started tipping, heading for a nosedive into the floor. Somehow the tightening of Cas's hands on his hips halted his forward movement and adjusted the balance, holding him parallel to the stage as the angel began to spin. "-literal."

"Sorry, didn't adjust for the difference in center of gravity. Pull your arms in and cross them over your chest."

"What? Why?" Dean choked out before going wide-eyed as he felt himself going up, pausing weightless for half a second before gravity took over and he quickly followed directions, pulling his arms in, eyes squeezing shut.

Castiel caught Dean out of a barrel roll, swinging his legs to one side, up into the air, other side, back into the air, Dean's body completely vertical before guiding him back down and landing him on his feet. He bowed to the judges, mumbling to Dean to do the same, then led his wide-eyed, stumbling partner off the stage. "I think we should go search the other dressing rooms while we can, just in case," he said, pulling Dean toward the stairs until the hunter stopped abruptly, jerking his hand free and collapsing onto a stack of sandbags. "Dean?"

"Dude, just... just give me a minute," he breathed, holding up a hand to Cas like a traffic cop halting a line of cars, and trying not to hyperventilate. 

"Is something wrong?" the angel asked, brows furrowed.

"Wrong? Yeah something's wrong. You just tossed me around like a frickin' rag doll. Give me a minute to finish freaking out here, k?"

"Okay Dean." Coming back, Castiel stood next to the improvised sandbag chair and did a pretty good impression of a mannequin. 

Casting a sidelong glance at his partner Dean rolled his eyes, wondering if Cas would ever get over that habit of being inhumanly still. Not that he didn't love the guy-angel, of course he did, just times like this it kinda took him by surprise how much he really wasn't human. Other times, he was way more human than an angel had any right to be and those times were... mind blowing. Aaand of course his brain was gonna follow that train of thought; mind, head, blowing, sucking, licking, fu-. Heat that started in his cheeks headed downward with the thought train and Dean jumped off mid-track, not wanting to follow all the way to the conclusion. At least the mental distraction had brought his breathing from too fast to normal. "Ok, I'm good. Well, better at least. Let's go look for a locket-or-whatever-it-is," he said as he stood, smiling as he watched the mannequin-like angel reanimate. Heading back downstairs, they began checking the other 19 dressing rooms while the remaining 50 or so couples did their auditions.

 

*****

 

"In here," Dean called to Cas, who was checking the dressing room across the hall.

"Did you find it?" the angel asked as he hurried over.

"I think so," the hunter replied, holding up a gold chain, a filigreed heart shaped locket dangling off it. Callused fingers fumbled it open to reveal a picture of a very tiny baby on one side, Lily on the other. Each picture was framed with a thin braid of hair. "Now we just need to- Shit!" Dean exclaimed, tucking the locket into his pocket as he grabbed Cas, pushed him up against the nearest wall and began kissing him passionately.

"Wha-" was as much as Castiel got out before his mouth was invaded by Dean's tongue.

"Is there someone down here? This area is off- oh!" one of the set crew had peeked through the doorway and frozen at the sight of the men making out. "Umm... contestants need to be in the theatre in 30 minutes. Don't be late," she said hastily before closing the door to give them privacy.

Dean pulled back once they were safe but Cas followed, not letting him break the kiss. Groaning into the mouth assaulting his, Dean eventually managed to turn his head away, leaving the angel's lips free to kiss their way across his jaw and down his neck. "Dude, they left, you can stop now," he gasped.

"Why would you want to start when someone was coming, then stop when they're gone? Did the idea of being watched turn you on?" Castiel mumbled against his throat.

"Cas, no, that- hey!" he said as Cas's hands somehow managed to fit themselves inside his jeans to knead his ass. "Cas, we can't do this here, now, there isn't time, we have to-" Dean broke off again with a whimper as Cas managed to press him up against a wall, grinding their hips together. Tight jeans that had become too-tight when Cas's hands invaded were now uncomfortably-tight and heading for painfully-tight with his growing arousal. "Cas! Stop!" Dean commanded, putting every ounce of authority into it he could, because he sure as hell couldn't push Cas away; he'd been trying. Why the hell were angels so stupidly strong?

Stepping back, brows creased, Castiel stared at Dean in confusion. "Why?"

"We don't have time for this; we need to torch the locket and get out of here," Dean explained, wondering why he had to. But then, this was Cas so of course he wouldn't understand why Dean did the PDA trick to get them off the hook for being where they weren't allowed.

"But we don't have to be in the theatre for another 30 minutes; it won't take even a third of that to finish what we started here," Cas countered.

"We're not going to the theatre. We're gonna take the damn locket outside and torch it, then head home."

"Dean, did you not read what you signed earlier? It was a legal document saying we would stay until the chosen couples were announced, and if we were chosen we would stay until we were either knocked out of the competition or won it."

"Legal, schmegal, who cares? C'mon, let's go," Dean said, grabbing Cas's hand to tug him toward the door and being stopped short when the angel didn't budge. Wincing at the intense blue gaze drilling into him, saying free will didn't give him the right to break a promise which is what signing that form had been, Dean slumped, sighing. "Fine, we'll stay, but we're torching the locket first."

"Second," Castiel corrected, pulling Dean back into his arms and kissing him, hand grabbing his ass as he ground against him.

Groaning, Dean let Cas push him back against the wall again. Cas obviously wasn't going to be derailed, and besides, Dean was still achingly hard. "Fine, but we can't take too long," Dean moaned when Cas broke off to kiss his way to Dean's shoulder, alternately sucking and biting in the way he's learned drives the hunter wild. "Fuck, Cas," Dean panted.

"Can we?" Castiel asked hopefully, head snapping up to pin Dean with the stormy sea of his eyes.

Dean sighed, swinging Cas around to press him against the wall. "Later," he breathed into Cas's ear, tonguing his earlobe as he quickly unfastened Cas's belt and pants then dropped to his knees, pulling the clothing down to Cas's thighs, enough to free the erection within. Looking up at Cas from under his lashes, he licked his lips, then flicked his tongue over the head. Drawing in a sharp breath, Cas watched intently as Dean's lips slid over his cock, moaning as Dean's tongue flicked its way down the underside while he sucked. Their experience had expanded since their first time together, in as much as they'd brought each other off with hands and Dean had screwed Cas, in every way he could think of; but this was the first blow job. He was still coming to terms with the fact that the angel he loved was male. Didn't make him want Cas any less, of course, but he just hadn't felt ready 'til now. Because, while Dean had never given one, he'd gotten some spectacular blows in the past and he was prepared to put that experience to work. Unfastening his jeans, while his lips and tongue worked their magic drawing moans of pleasure from Cas, Dean pulled out his own cock, rubbing pre-cum onto his hand then stroking, slow and firm, groaning around the hard length in his mouth as he finally gave his own body the attention it needed. Much as Dean wanted to close his eyes and just feel, he knew how much seeing Dean's pleasure turned Cas on so he kept his verdant gaze locked with azure, surprised to realize how much his angel's pleasure turned him on too. Stroking himself faster, he applied all the tricks he'd learned, tongue and mouth skillfully imitating the moves though he'd never done them himself before. The surprised pleasure on Cas's face was all the evidence he needed that his ministrations were working, though the way the hard length in his mouth began twitching with imminent release was also a pretty big clue. Dean was nearing his own limit, hand alternating speed and pressure as he moaned around heated flesh, tongue working tirelessly as Cas's hands landed on his shoulders, the angel's voice filling his ears with sounds of pleasure. As Cas began thrusting, Dean came, coughing and sputtering as he pulled off the angel's cock, salty bitterness dripping from his mouth as the rest of Cas's release streaked over his face. Not quite the ending he'd been planning.

"Oops," Castiel said, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping Dean's face. He sounded apologetic, but his face was anything but; practically glowing with pleasure. Helping Dean to his feet, he kissed the hunter ardently, conveying his appreciation without words as his handkerchief cleared up the mess from Dean's release too. 

"I take it you enjoyed that?" Dean smirked when Cas broke the kiss and began tucking himself back in. The hunter fastened his own jeans back up.

"If you're practicing your skill at understatement, then yes, I enjoyed that, and it looked very much like you did too," Castiel grinned. "Now, I think we have a necklace to burn?"

"Yeah, if you can keep your mind on the job long enough," Dean teased.

"I can keep my mind on a multitude of things simultaneously," Castiel pointed out as he led the way out of the dressing room and up the stairs.

Following, Dean stopped Cas as he started to head for the front entrance, tugging him instead toward the side exit into the alley. Telling the angel to wait in the doorway so it couldn't close all the way and lock them out, he lay the necklace open-faced in the middle of the alley, sprinkled salt from the shaker in his pocket over it, doused it with lighter fluid from another pocket, flicked his Zippo open and lit, then set the necklace ablaze. The ghost didn't make an appearance, but he was pretty sure that had taken care of her. Once the fire had burned itself out, he checked what was left, making sure the hair was completely burned. After the fiasco with Sammy getting possessed by a ghost that one time, he _always_ checked. No trace of DNA left, he and Cas made their way to the theatre, finding seats near the back. 

Dean's mind wandered, thinking how he'd like to give the Impala a tune-up when they got back; it was rare to have a break like this between apocalypses but for once, there was no looming Big Bad demanding his time and attention which meant, other than the odd hunting job, he had time to spend on both his Babys; the Impala and Cas.

When the show's producer came onstage to announce the couples who had made it onto the show, it barely interrupted his thoughts. It wasn't like he and Cas would get called up; not only were they horrible dancers, they weren't exactly the traditional dance couple. That's why, when Cas tugged Dean out of his seat and began dragging him up to the stage, the hunter was caught completely off guard. "Cas, what..?" Dean asked as he stumbled along behind the angel.

"She called us up. Couple 69. Weren't you listening?" Castiel replied.

Eyes widening in some mixture of surprise and horror, Dean's gaze fixed on the producer, who was smiling at him and Cas, then looked at the other 26 people on stage. _Fuck my life,_ Dean thought resignedly as Cas pulled him on stage to join the line of other contestants. Hopefully the next apocalypse could wait 12 weeks before starting, because it looked like he and Cas were gonna be busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG, my stomach and cheeks hurt from laughing every time I read: 
> 
>  "Now we just need to- Shit!" Dean exclaimed,
> 
>  Because Cas keeps popping into my brain with a response to the effect of 'I don't know why we both need to defecate right this instant, but ok...' and thanks to cas's mojo they both poop their pants. omg, why am i still laughing at this? owwwwie. silly literal cas X.X
> 
> I'm not big on reality tv, but family roped me into watching the season of DWtS that had Drew Scott on it (in addition to Jordan Fisher and Frankie Muniz, all three of which were amazing) which happened to be pretty good, and I have always liked dance; shame I never got to take lessons. So, we'll see how this goes. Not sure yet how many chapters this will be; it's mainly meant to be humor. I'm thinking I'll be posting once a week from now on, but then, just depends how fast my fingers type and how smoothly the stories flow. 
> 
> as always, comments, corrections and suggestions encouraged and appreciated! :D
> 
> oh, the incident with Sammy and the ghost was in reference to [Too Close,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14325840) a ficlet I wrote years ago.


	2. Hot Salsa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up with a bit of Salsa and something unexpected.
> 
> (chapters are episodic, no cliffhangers. so feel free to read them as they come out :)

"This was a really fuckin' bad idea, Cas," Dean complained as he collapsed on the floor of the dance studio and downed half his bottle of water, arm wiping sweat from his forehead.

"You're the one who signed us up," Castiel pointed out.

Glaring at the angel, Dean finished off his water. Of course Cas wasn't sweating at all; damn angel perks. It was nice to see him out of his customary suit though; they were both wearing shorts and tees for the practice session with their dance instructor.

"Yeah, but I hadn't actually expected to get picked. I can't be on TV, Cas; as far as the feds know, I'm dead. Going on national television is kinda gonna draw attention, and not the kind I want or need. All the contestants have to come back for the last show, which will be live. How much you wanna bet the feds show up with a warrant?" Dean ranted.

"I don't have currency. And have you forgotten the cameras are on right now? Maybe we should talk about this later?" Castiel replied.

"Shit. Well, I don't think they're close enough to hear what we're saying, but yeah, I guess this talk should wait. Besides, I think the sergeant wants us back to work," he added, seeing the stern look their dance instructor was giving them. So far, she'd been strict, hence Dean's moniker of sergeant for her, but also fair. After their first session she'd developed a routine for them, salsa since that was what they'd been assigned. It took advantage of Cas's strength, which left Dean dancing the girl's part again. And while Dean could put a bullet between the eyes of a monster from 60 yards, when it came to dancing he was _not_ proficient. Who ever heard of a bowlegged dancer? Dean had all the grace of a chicken on stilts. In mud. On the bright side, once they'd made asses of themselves on national television they'd be off the show and back to hunting.

"Dean, you're not making a real effort," Castiel chastised as Natalie stopped them in the middle of the first sequence again to correct Dean's posture and footwork.

"I don't even wanna do the damn show, why the hell should I try?" Dean countered.

"For me? I tried to stop you from signing us up, but you ignored me. Since we've agreed to be in it, we should do our best. Oh, unless you are doing your best. Sorry, Dean, I didn't realize this routine was too hard for you, even though it's the easiest one of the competition. I thought you were good at moving your body, but maybe that's only in relation to sex?" Castiel goaded. It had taken less time than he would have thought to realize poking at Dean's pride was the fastest way to get him to do something he didn't want to do.

"Cas!" Dean warned, eyes darting from the sergeant to the camera.

"What?" Castiel asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Dean closed the distance between them, hand fisted in Cas's shirt to pull him close so he could murmur in the angel's ear. "I've told you, no talking about sex in public."

"You said not to talk about sex between you and me in public. I was referring to sex in general, which you talk about all the time," Castiel rasped, lowering his voice enough to keep the conversation private.

"Cas... look, if I try to take this damn thing seriously, can we just not have this conversation?"

"Of course, Dean," Castiel replied. They started the routine again, and again, and again, and again, and by the end of the day Dean was starting to feel more confident. It helped that halfway through practice Natalie had brought up the subject of outfits, resulting in putting Dean's biggest fear to rest; no dresses. For this dance, Dean would have a flannel tied around his waist giving the illusion of a skirt without actually being one. The instructor felt cross-dressing would put the wrong connotation on their performances, so promised they would be dressed tastefully in clothes that would emphasize their masculine bodies while still keeping in style for each dance.

 

*****

 

By the start of the third day they both had the moves memorized and began working on style. Then it was Cas's turn to struggle. Like a small play, the routine had them interacting as characters. Characterized versions of themselves, but still... over the years Dean had been pretending to be every type of federal agent imaginable, as well as priest, insurance claim rep, pest control, security company tech; he'd worn more hats than he could name, and rarely if ever had trouble selling his role to get him the access he needed to do his real job. On the other hand, Cas... deception was not in his wheelhouse. Though Dean had been trying to improve the angel's ability at that part of being a hunter, Cas had only made a bit of progress, and that just extended as far as imitating Dean, without taking the context of each situation into account, which meant the hunter often had to scramble to recover situations. By the end of the third day, Cas was frustrated with the constant corrections from the sergeant and Dean was feeling more than a little vindicated.

Climbing into the passenger seat, Castiel closed the door firmly then fastened the safety harness, though he hardly needed its protection. Apparently police officers didn't care if one was a nearly indestructible angel, the law said everyone had to wear the thing or get fined and while he'd never seen Dean actually get a ticket, it was apparently something best avoided.

"Dude. Don't take it out on Baby," Dean chastised as he laid their plastic-wrapped costumes on the back seat.

"What?" Castiel asked, brows furrowed.

"I get that you're frustrated, but that don't mean you gotta slam the door," Dean explained as he got behind the wheel.

"I didn't."

"Yeah, you did," Dean insisted as he started the Impala and pulled onto the street.

"Dean, I closed it firmly, but I didn't 'slam' it."

"Whatever, Cas. Just be nice to her. Anyway, you're obviously ticked about today; we can work through it. You'll get there, just like I got there with the moves. We'll just come at it from different angles 'til we find what works for you. You're the one who insisted I put some effort into this thing; now it's time for you to do the same," Dean said as he pulled the Impala into the small parking lot across from the theatre.

"But Dean... I'm not human. How am I supposed to pretend to be this person she wants me to be when I can't even act like a person in the first place?" Castiel grumbled as he unhooked his belt and got out, taking care not to 'slam' the door.

"You've been getting better at it, Cas. Hell, you're leaps and bounds ahead of where you were when we first met," Dean replied, getting the garments from the back seat. "And lately, there have been plenty of times when you've been acting _very_ human," he added with a smirk.

"You mean when we're having s-"

"Cas!" Dean interrupted as they crossed the street.

"Sorry," Castiel apologized, brows furrowed.

"And yeah, that's what I meant, just don't say it out loud in the middle of a public street," Dean explained in an attempt to remove the sting.

"That will hardly help me with the problem. I'm pretty sure you won't let me do anything like that while we're dancing on stage."

"Damn straight. But the look you get when you want... that, that's what sergeant wants from you," Dean replied as they headed down the stairs toward the dressing rooms.

"Natalie said she wanted 'hot'. Doesn't that mean physically attractive?" Castiel asked as he opened the door into their dressing room for Dean.

"Well, yeah. Kinda like, she wants you to look at me like I'm hot. You do that all the time; shouldn't be too hard for you." Dean replied, hanging the clothes on the rack in their dressing room, which, coincidentally, was the one they'd made out in on audition day. Or maybe it wasn't such a coincidence, since one of the set crew had walked in on them; maybe she'd arranged it?

"Dean..." Castiel said, closing the door and leaning back against it as he wondered how to phrase what he wanted to say without his human lover taking it the wrong way. "Not that I don't like your body, because I do; I like the things you do to my vessel, to me, with it, but I, uh... I don't really find human bodies attractive. Though yours is nice, and like I said, I like how you use it, and you're in good physical shape, I'm not... I'm not complaining or anything, I really do enjoy the sex, it feels very good, it's just, I just don't have an understanding of 'hot'. At least, not from a human perspective," he concluded, surprised that he hadn't been interrupted. Brows furrowed, he examined Dean, wondering if he had conveyed that properly without hurting his feelings.

"Cas," Dean replied, taking a deep breath, "this may just be my over-inflated ego talking, but the look you give me when you want me... want to have sex," he clarified in case the angel hadn't understood, "that's the look you give someone when you think they're hot."

Confused, Castiel blinked. "Dean, that look... that's not for your body, it's for your soul," he said, embarrassed though his vessel didn't show it.

Maybe Cas didn't blush, but Dean definitely did. "Cas, are you saying you think my soul is hot?" he asked, closing the distance between them to stand in front of the angel, right in his personal space and staring intently into his eyes, just like Cas always did to him. A faint flush of pink stained Cas's cheeks, barely there, but Dean saw it, eyes widening. "Oh, wow, you do. How? How could you even... the things I've done; in hell, in purgatory, when I had the Mark, when I was a Demon, Amara... I know you've forgiven all the shit I've done, but all that is still on my soul. With all that crap, how can my soul be anything but ugly?"

Reaching out to brush moisture from the corner of Dean's eye, Castiel smiled softly. "Dean, all that 'crap' is _why_ your soul is so beautiful. Because with everything you've been through, all the tough choices you've made, the regrets you've had, the times the fate of the world rested on your and Sam's shoulders, things that would shatter most souls; even after all that, your soul still shines bright, burning away the darkness time and time again. I think it's the... most attractive thing I've ever seen. Sexy might be an accurate word; it definitely makes me want to have sex with you."

"Cas, I..." Dean didn't know what to say, so instead he leaned in, pressing lips against his angel's, deep and tender; not to arouse, just to convey the feelings he couldn't put into words. To show how much it meant to him that Cas had been there for him so many times, pardoning his faults, his crimes, even when he couldn't forgive himself. Even those things Sammy never really got past, just shoved down inside himself and ignored because while he didn't always like things Dean did, they were still brothers and loved each other. But Cas had never ignored his faults, just accepted him, flawed human that he was.

Castiel deepened the kiss, pulling Dean closer, arms sliding around his waist. Though he knew it wasn't what the hunter was intending, just then he really wanted to have sex. Explaining to Dean what he found attractive had drawn his attention to his lover's soul, and while, on the ethereal level it evoked a desire to connect to that soul, to let his being wrap around and thread through that bright point of light, physically that desire translated to arousal in his vessel. He was just starting to rock against Dean when they were interrupted by a scream from upstairs that cut off alarmingly abruptly.

Pulling back, Dean and Cas looked at each other for a surprised second, then Cas pulled the door open and Dean rushed up the stairs, angel close on his heels. Looking around once they got to the ground floor, Dean spotted a woman above the stage, legs kicking feebly, clawing at the nothing around her neck which held her suspended over enough empty air that if the invisible strangulation didn't kill her, the fall would. Dean ran up onto the stage, Cas right behind, poured some salt into his hand, and threw it as high as he could. "Cas, catch," he instructed as whatever ghostly hold there was released the woman and she plummeted toward the stage. As Cas carefully caught her, Dean trailed a thin circle of salt around the three of them; since he'd known they were dealing with a ghost, he had more salt on him than he usually carried, but not enough to make a thicker barrier. Hopefully the thin line would be enough. "Show yourself, whoever you are," he called out. Dean was beginning to suspect they weren't really dealing with Lily, because he didn't know what else could be holding her soul here with both her body and the locket burned. There was a flicker center stage right, giving a brief glimpse of a disheveled man in a suit, jacket unbuttoned, shirt half-tucked, fly unzipped, scratches clawed down his left cheek. With a cry of rage, the figure rushed toward them, popping in and out of the visible spectrum several times, the last sight being of his arms outstretched as though to strangle them, curling into dark grey, smoky wisps that dissipated with the rest of his body as he hit the invisible salt barrier.

"That was not Lily Vale," Castiel pointed out needlessly.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean groused, running a frustrated hand through his hair with a sigh. "You ok?" he asked the woman they'd rescued as Cas set her on her feet.

Eyes wide, the woman's mouth opened and closed several times, though no sound came out. It wasn't until Dean snapped his fingers several times in front of her face that she seemed to find her voice. "I- that- what... what the hell was that?" the woman stammered shakily.

"Ghost," Dean shrugged. "Or just a special effects trick, if that makes you feel better."

"That was no trick; that was a seriously real ghost. And it tried to kill me. Why did it try to kill me? What the actual fuck? What did I ever do to it?" her voice still trembled, but as she talked it went from scared to outraged.

"When souls refuse to move on for whatever reason, they tend to lose their sanity. The spirit probably would have attacked anyone who was on the stage alone. You shouldn't tell anyone about this; we won't be able to take care of it if there is too much outside interference. Though you might suggest to your colleagues that they not work alone anywhere inside the building," Castiel explained briskly. 

Rolling his eyes at Cas, Dean said, "Look, what's your name?"

"Leah. Leah Cartwright."

"Ok, Leah, I don't wanna give you the whole 'things that go bump in the night' spiel, but suffice it to say ghosts are real and they can do some damage. Salt or iron will hold 'em off but that's only temporary. Cas and me, we're here to get rid of this one for good; that's what we were doing when you walked in on us in the dressing room at auditions; that was you, right?" After her nod of confirmation, Dean continued. "We thought it was Lily Vale, but obviously that wasn't her, so have you heard anything about anyone else dying in this theatre?"

Shaking her head, Leah said, "No. I mean, I heard an actress hung herself here after her director ran off, but nothing other than that."

"Why'd she hang herself just 'cause the director ran off?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Leah replied with a shrug, "but apparently he really took her suicide hard because he hasn't directed anything since."

"What's he been doing?"

"No one knows. Guess he kinda dropped off the radar."

"Hmm... do you know what he looks like?" Dean asked, suspicion dawning.

Leah shook her head. "Sorry, I wasn't around back then; that's just what I've heard since we started working here."

"Alright, well thanks for the info you did have, that helps. There anyone else workin' here right now?" When Leah shook her head Dean continued, "K, then let's bail. Here," he handed her his only spare salt shaker, "anything comes at you, shake some of that at it." 

Leah looked at the container suspiciously, but squared her shoulders resolutely and nodded, then positioned herself between Dean and Cas.

Making their way quickly but cautiously out of the building, they all breathed a sigh of relief when they made it outside without further incident. After locking up, they concocted a story for Leah to tell the producer; Leah had been attacked by someone who looked homeless, who had been chased off by Dean and Cas. That would give good reason for no one to be working alone. It would be better if they closed the whole production down altogether, but Leah assured them Carol, the producer, would never do that. Once Dean assured her the ghost wouldn't leave the theatre, Leah left, then Dean and Cas headed back to their hotel room.

 

*****

 

_"So, wait, you're having trouble with a ghost? A ghost?!"_

"Shut it, Sammy. It's not who we thought it was, ok? Look we just need info on Lily Vale's director. Supposedly his running off is why she killed herself, but rumor has it he hasn't been heard from since, so... Oh, and while you're at it, think you could look up that hoodoo charm or spell or whatever? The one the granny at that old inn was using to keep her dead sister away? Learned it from her nanny? Gotta be info on ghost wards somewhere in the bunker, right?"

_"Probably. Let me see what I can dig up. I'll ring you back when I have something."_

"K, thanks Sammy."

"Well, that's that. I guess all we can do is wait for Sam to come up with something," Dean said as he hung up the phone and pulled his double bacon cheeseburger and fries from a paper bag, setting them on the table as he slumped into a chair.

"And practice," Castiel added.

"What?" Dean asked around a mouthful of burger.

"Practice. For the dance competition you got us into?" Castiel clarified.

"Dude, Cas, we've been practicing all day," Dean said, taking another bite.

"Dean, we only have a few more days until the performance; we need- _I_ need practice. I have to learn how to act... human. Please, Dean, this is important to me."

"I get it, Cas, just let me finish eating first, k?" Dean grumbled as he grabbed a few fries.

Once Dean was done eating and showering (because he insisted on washing off the perspiration from the practice they'd been doing all day, though, as Castiel pointed out, he was just going to get sweaty again), they got back to practicing. While Castiel had knowledge of most of the movies that had ever been made to use as reference, he still found it difficult to mimic the emotions meant to be portrayed in the dance. He tried to 'look at Dean like he wanted him', but Dean was tired from a long day of practicing and frustrated that the ghost was still at the theatre. As such, his soul wasn't glowing its brightest. It was still beautiful, but not in the way that sparked desire in Castiel's vessel. Instead, it made him want to hold Dean in the protection of his arms, wrap him in the embrace of his wings and watch him sleep throughout the night, safe and comforted and loved. Giving up on the idea of further rehearsal that evening, he took Dean to bed and did just that.

 

*****

 

Dance practice the next day went about as well as the day before. They had the steps down perfect but Cas still had trouble expressing the mood. Around 1 pm they knocked off for lunch and the sergeant gave them the rest of the day off to work on the acting part themselves. As they sat in a family owned diner sipping coffee, waiting for Dean's burger and fries, they were surprised to see a familiar figure looming over their table.

"Hey, Sammy. How'd you know where we were?" Dean asked.

"Your car's right outside; wasn't hard to guess," Sam replied as he slid into the booth next to Dean. The waitress came over immediately, a big smile for Sam as she asked if she could get him anything. After receiving a cup of coffee and ordering a chicken salad he got down to business, handing Dean a crown royal bag. "There are four hoodoo mojo bags in there. You just have to put one at each of the four corners of the building, somewhere someone won't find and move them. As for the director, his name was Mike Johnson and he's considered 'missing' by the police. House was abandoned, all his stuff still there, no activity on his bank account or soc. number. Cops suspected he may have had something to do with Lily's suicide and done a runner but his disappearance is a cold case now."

"You find a picture of him?" Dean asked, tucking the mojo bags into a coat pocket alongside the salt he'd restocked.

"Yeah," Sam replied, thumbing through a few pictures on his phone, then turning it for Dean to see.

"That's him," Dean sighed, angling the phone over so Cas could see too. "Shit. That means his body's probably somewhere in the theatre."

"Well, once you have the hoodoo in place you can take your time searching," Sam pointed out.

"True," Dean said as their food arrived. "You wanna come with us after lunch to place the mojo bags? You can check out the theatre while we're there, maybe help us figure out where to start looking?" he added around a mouthful of burger.

"Dude, eat or talk, pick one," Sam complained as he put dressing on his salad. "And yeah, that sounds like a plan. How's your motel on space? Should I head there first, make sure I can get a room, then meet you at the theatre?"

Swallowing his food before it was fully chewed, Dean washed it down with some coffee then asked, "You're staying here?"

"Hey, you're gonna be dancing in front of a crowd in three days. I wanna see you make an ass of yourself on national TV," Sam smirked.

"The one doing that will be me, not Dean," Castiel interjected. "He's got the routine perfect; I'm the one who's going to mess it up."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, sure. I grew up with Dean, I know just how good he is, or isn't, at dancing."

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm doing just fine. And Cas will be great too, we just need to smooth a few things out," Dean asserted, pretending to take offense.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll believe that when I see it," Sam smirked, going back to his salad.

 

*****

 

The remaining time before the competition passed in a blur, seeming to move much faster than Castiel would prefer. Time is supposed to be a constant, but so are the second and third dimensions and every angel knows those can be warped when necessary, so maybe time can too. However it happened, the day of the competition dawned and Castiel felt unprepared, though he and Dean had found a way to improve his 'acting' ability. Basically, it had involved Dean and Castiel switching roles, the hunter playing the lead while the angel followed, watching his expressions and comportment until he was able to imitate them, though they skipped over the lift at the end. It would have to do. The dress rehearsal last night had been... acceptable. And in just a few hours, the actual performance would, hopefully, be better.

Dean frowned into the dressing room mirror, wondering why they had insisted on putting... makeup *shudder* on him. He'd just wind up sweating it off while dancing. It could have been worse though; he was tanned and his 'complexion' was good so they'd relented when he refused the foundation they'd wanted to put on him. Still had gunk on his eyes and lips though, which he'd have to be careful not to wipe off at the beginning of the routine. Supposedly they were waterproof, but that didn't mean they couldn't be rubbed off. At least he didn't have the added worry of a deadly ghost on the loose. Not that the ghost was gone, just powerless thanks to the mojo protection bags Sammy had made and helped place on the roof, each hidden behind a loosened brick in a corner. They hadn't made any progress on finding the body though. And thanks to Sammy having to share their motel room, he and Cas hadn't been able to work on their chemistry for the dance in private the way he'd wanted. They'd had to settle for Dean showing by example and Cas mimicking him. Speaking of the angel... turning as the door opened, Dean watched as Cas entered, back from letting the crew use him as a dress-up ken doll. Like Dean, they'd applied makeup, though on Cas it actually looked good. Amazing even. Darkened lashes and eyeliner accentuated those intense blue eyes, and the foundation meant to keep his skin from being washed out by the stage lighting was barely visible, lips darker but still looking natural, his cheeks darkened just a touch near the top, drawing attention back to his eyes, the eyebrows above them scrunched up in his usual quizzical expression.

"Something wrong, Dean?" Castiel asked.

"Wrong? No, Cas... You look amazing," Dean said, closing the distance between them to wrap his arms around the angel's waist, though he only pressed their lips together softly, briefly, mindful not to mess up the makeup.

"Dean, I look the same as I always do," Castiel protested, brows still furrowed. The suit he was wearing was dark grey, darker than his customary one, and the blue tie was a bit more ornate, black lines representing tropical flowers woven through it, a silver rose tie pin holding it to his shirt. Over it all was a trench coat, similar to the one he usually wore though this one was black. Still, he didn't think the clothing was that different. Of course, Dean's attire wasn't much different either; form fitting faded blue jeans with a white t-shirt tucked into them, blue flannel shirt that matched Castiel's tie fastened around his waist, eyes and lips darker than usual with a faint touch of blue on his eyelids. Still, by human standards, Dean was certainly a bit more physically appealing than usual, so maybe the subtle changes did make a difference. "You look very attractive as well," he added, rather than admitting his first statement may have been inaccurate. The light from Dean's soul vibrated, trembled, and whether it was from the compliment, nerves, excitement, or any combination of the three, Castiel found his vessel's breath catching, body stirring toward arousal, and had to step away. He covered the moment by going to the mirror to check his appearance, which was not the same as always. Like Dean, his physical form's look was enhanced past its usual level.

"Are you two- oh!" Leah said, stopping in the doorway. "Wow! Don't you two look... Damn, if I was judging you'd get a ten before you even started dancing!"

"Thanks," Dean chuckled. "Uh... Did you need something? Besides the eye candy?" he added, grin widening, when she remained there staring.

"Oh, right. Filming starts in half an hour. You need to be onstage for the opening number ten minutes before."

"Ok, we'll head that way, thanks, Leah," Dean said, turning to hold a hand out to Cas as the stage hand ran off to inform other contestants.

Castiel took the offered hand, allowing Dean to lead him up to the stage. Once there, they waited for the rest of the contestants, and then it was time for the opening number. They'd worked on it a few times over the past couple days so Dean and Castiel were pretty confident in their parts. The other contestants were too, for the most part, though one couple messed up and they had to do a second take, and then a third when a different couple missed their cue. But the third take went well and then it was time for the individual dances which, barring outside interference, weren't allowed to be performed more than once. Castiel and Dean were the third couple up, and as they watched the first two dances, Dean's soul grew brighter and shimmered until, when their turn came, Castiel was drawn to the hunter with every glance.

They started out with Dean on the stage among cinder blocks as the opening of Blue Collar Man by Styx started up. During the musical intro, Castiel walked across the stage as Dean took off his hardhat. When he reached stage right, the angel stopped, turning as though drawn to the construction worker. Acting was no longer necessary; Dean's soul was shining so bright it was nearly blinding and Castiel was enthralled, watching as Dean took off his white t-shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his skin. This time the sweat was real, caused by a combination of nerves and stage lighting, and it was so distracting that Castiel almost missed his cue, but remembered just in time that they were supposed to be dancing and shrugged his black trench coat off his shoulders, letting it slide to the floor. He strode purposefully to Dean, took his hand, and led him out of the cinder blocks, away from the 'construction site' and onto the 'street' that was the main stage. And then they were dancing, Dean tentative at first as the startled construction worker was led into salsa-stepping in the street by the 'straight-laced' office worker. They flowed through the dance, confidence growing as their synchronized movements held the audience captivated. Dean's hips swayed, the flannel shirt tied around them swishing like a skirt, flaring around him as Castiel spun him, hand on his shoulders, going over his head. It seemed impossibly soon when the dance came to its end, Dean jumping into Castiel's arms, the angel lifting him horizontally above his head, Dean's body straight and firm as Castiel spun quickly, then stopped, facing the audience, tossing Dean up into the air from where he dropped in a barrel roll and Castiel caught him in a dip as Dean's hand came up to cup Castiel's face, the angel's left arm holding his partner securely, right hand raised in a triumphant pose, which they held while the music ended and the audience went wild.

"Um... Cas, I think we're supposed to bow now?" Dean mumbled as the pose was held longer than necessary.

Castiel blinked, as though coming out of a trance, then stood, bringing Dean to his feet with him. They bowed, hands linked, and the crowd went wild again. Then the judges gave their scores; a seven from each of the male judges and a nine from the female judge. With a final bow they both left the stage and, though they were supposed to remain backstage to watch the other performers, Castiel dragged Dean forcefully downstairs and to their dressing room. Once there, the angel closed the door before finally allowing himself to look at Dean again. Molten heat shot through his vessel at the still-glowing, triumphant soul that was his lover and Castiel shoved him up against the door, kissing passionately.

Dean groaned, his arousal apparent as Cas ground against him. "Cas. We can't; we'll mess up our makeup and costumes," Dean panted when he was able to break away.

Castiel took the opportunity to kiss his way to Dean's neck, sucking at the throbbing pulse point there. "But I want you," he rasped, not seeing how any other mundane concerns should factor into what they were doing.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean groaned, trying unsuccessfully to pull away from where Cas's lips on his throat were driving him wild. "We can't... we're supposed to be back on stage... we have to..."

"I don't care. I want you inside me. Now." 

Shivering, Dean said, "...Fuck," again, pushing Cas away just long enough to press him face first against the door while he reached around the angel's waist to undo his belt and pants, sliding them down as he tongued around Cas's ear, grimacing at the taste of the foundation makeup but loving the sounds it drew from his lover. "Lick," he commanded as he slid two fingers into his angel's mouth, the other hand fumbling to get his jeans opened.

"Dean, I can just-" Castiel started to say around the fingers in his mouth, though he obediently licked as they thrust in and out.

"No. No angel mojo; you want human contact we do it the human way," Dean asserted, rutting against Cas's ass as his fingers thrust in and out of the angel's mouth. Once Cas was moaning with need, Dean retrieved his fingers, sliding first one, then the second into the angel's ass, scissoring and thrusting, making sure to prepare him thoroughly. 

"Dean, I'm fine; hurry," Castiel demanded, thrusting onto the fingers within him, sending heat and shivers through his vessel as his prostate was stimulated.

Growling at the eagerness in Cas's voice, Dean gave in, sliding his fingers out and stroking himself enough to smear pre-cum and the remaining spit onto his shaft before sliding into the firm, waiting ass. "Fuck, Cas," he groaned, reveling in the tightness sheathing his cock. The response Cas gave was incoherent but the way he began moving, fucking himself on Dean's cock made the meaning clear. Dean began meeting thrust for thrust, one arm curled possessively over Cas's chest, the other reaching around to stroke his angel's erection. Cas's enthusiasm for Dean was as unbelievably hot as ever and Dean struggled to hold off his release while fucking his lover with wild abandon. He couldn't even count the number of girls he'd been with over the years, but this, with Cas, was unlike any experience he'd ever had. It wasn't just that Cas was an indestructible angel who apparently loved for Dean to fuck him hard and deep; it was the way Cas wanted him, the way things would be going along normally until something or other set off a fire in Cas that demanded their bodies be connected so it could rage through both of them before burning itself out. It was so fucking hot, but the wrong thing to cross his mind when he was trying to hold off release. Whimpering, orgasm swept over and through Dean as he shuddered into Cas's tight warmth, hand on the angel's throbbing length tightening and moving faster as he rasped, "Cas. Come for me baby," into his lover's ear. That did the trick and his angel's release hit and then they were both shuddering together, replete in each other as they rocked through the after shocks.

"Dean, thank you," Castiel said, one arm joining Dean's across his chest, fingers twining together.

"No, thank _you_ ," Dean chuckled against the back of Cas's neck. "And as much as I'd love to stay here and bask in the afterglow, I think we need to clean up and then head back to makeup if we're gonna make it back to the stage before the end of the show."

Castiel leaned forward until Dean's spent organ slid out of him, then turned in his arms, smiling at his lover. He brushed his lips against Dean's, using the instant of contact to return both of them to the appearance they'd had before going onto stage, though he only affected the outside of their bodies, leaving the tremor of satisfaction that washed through them. "Come on, we need to get back," he sighed as he pulled away. 

Eyebrow raised as he pulled back, Dean took in Cas's pristine appearance, then looked down at himself. "Guess that's one way to take care of cleanup," he grinned, taking his angel's hand and leading him back upstairs. With the angel-assisted wardrobe/makeup repair it turned out they'd only missed four dances. Watching the last seven from backstage, Dean was startled to realize he and Cas might actually have a shot at winning this thing. Not that he wanted to, but... the couples they'd seen were decent, but the crowd didn't go nearly as wild as they had for him and Cas. Of course, it was hard to be objective. The crowd may have just seemed louder under the bright heat of the stage lights. Or it could have been Sammy's hooting and hollering that sounded so loud, or riled the audience up into more cheering. Could just have been mostly girls in the audience who, for some reason, seemed to eat up the guy/guy stuff. Though, considering how hot Dean found it when two chicks went down on each other, he could see where women might feel the same way about seeing two guys get it on. Not that he and Cas had been getting it on when they were dancing, but the look his angel had been giving him was... well, it hadn't come as any surprise when Cas had dragged him down to their dressing room.

After the last contestants had finished their dance, it was time for all the couples to come back on stage. Castiel took Dean's hand as they stood side by side, waiting for the final scores. Surprisingly, they took 4th place. This was unexpected because, objectively speaking, Castiel thought he and Dean would have taken at least third, possibly second. But then, in fairness, they hadn't actually watched all the other dances. Perhaps some of the ones they'd missed had been better than the nine they had seen. Either way, he and Dean remained in the competition and another couple, a middle aged woman and her young partner, went home. So they had at least another week to try to find the body of Mike Johnson, who had once been Lily Vale's director.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to start posting every Monday, but this chapter gave me a bit of trouble. Every time I set up the smut, something interrupted >.< still got there in the end. hopefully I can write the next chapter faster. 
> 
> as always, comments, questions, suggestions encouraged and appreciated :D


	3. Sweet Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waltzing is much harder than it looks. Especially when Dean and Cas need to be in perfect synchronicity but their usual easy, silent understanding of each other and how they move seems to be missing. Is it frustration over their stalled ghost hunt or something more?
> 
>  **Chapter Tags:**  
>  switch!Dean, switch!Castiel, skinny dipping, car sex, angelic prep hehe

"I was thinking for this dance, we would try letting Dean lead. What do you two think?" Natalie asked.

"Awesome! I mean, sounds ok to me. Cas? You ok with that?"

"Sure, Dean. I doubt it makes much difference," Castiel replied.

"Actually, there is quite a big difference between leading and following. Usually the roles are dictated by gender, but most dancers at least try both. Some find they are only good at one or the other, others enjoy switching. It can take some time to figure out which you prefer, which you are best at. For now, we will try different things and within a few more weeks you two should have a feel for if you have a preference,” Natalie explained.

“So, kind of like se-“

“Cas!” Dean interrupted.

Castiel’s brows furrowed. “Dean, why haven’t we tri-“

“Seriously, Cas, knock it off!” Dean interjected again.

Castiel started to look around for what he was meant to ‘knock off’ before remembering it was an idiom. He also realized he’d been talking about sex in front of Natalie, which was likely what Dean wanted him to stop doing. It always seemed odd to him that humans were so reluctant to discuss something that was apparently on their minds so much. “Sorry,” he apologized, not for attempting to talk about a subject he was interested in, but for upsetting Dean.

Natalie burst out laughing, something Dean hadn’t thought her capable of. “The two of you really are amusing. You should go into comedy,” she chuckled as the laughter calmed down. “Now. To work,” She added, clapping her hands twice as she became the sergeant once more, moving them into positions, adjusting their arms, correcting their posture and basically turning the day into a long one. 

Waltzes appeared simple but were actually much harder than Dean had expected. It didn’t help that Dean forgot to tell Sergeant the song he wanted to use until well past lunch. She loved the choice, but it changed a lot of the routine she had worked out, so they took a dinner break early to give her time to finalize the dance. 

 

*****

 

“So, where haven’t we looked?” Dean asked, taking a bite of his burger. He, Cas, and Sam were at the diner near the theatre which had become their usual haunt.

“I don’t know, Dean, it seems like we’ve been through every nook and cranny,” Sam replied, stirring dressing into his salad.

“What about under the building?” Castiel chimed in, sipping coffee from his cup.

“Cas, you and I checked all the dressing rooms; I’m sure if there was a moldy pile of bones there we’d ‘ve found it,” Dean pointed out.

“No, below that,” Castiel clarified.

“Below the basement? There isn’t anything below the basement. Wait, there isn’t, is there?” Dean glanced between Cas and Sam.

“There’s nothing on the building’s blueprints,” Sam shrugged.

“No, there’s something there; another floor below the lower one,” Castiel affirmed. “Possibly tunnels too, but the area under the building felt like a mostly open square.”

“And you’re just mentioning this now because why exactly?” Dean asked, mentally reminding himself that getting snippy with Cas wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“Because you asked?” Castiel replied, brows furrowed.

Dean barely managed to resist planting his forehead on the table, but mainly because his burger and fries were in front of him and damned if he’d waste good food. “Alright, so if this space exists, is there a way to get in? Like human way, not just popping down there and hoping there’s air?”

“I think there are several passages leading there, but I haven’t found the actual entrances; they must be concealed.”

“Great, so now we, what, go looking for secret doors? I mean I haven’t seen any suspicious shelving with a book not painted into the background,” Dean grouched.

“Hey, at least now that we know they exist, we’ll have a better idea what to look for,” Sam pointed out.

“ _If_ we manage to get time,” Dean frowned, muscle aches making themselves known since he’d finished his food and was no longer distracted by hunger. Going back to their room and sleeping for a day or two sounded like a good idea, but he and Cas had to get back to the dance studio.

“Maybe we can try tomorrow evening?” Sam suggested.

“If the sergeant gives us a break, sure,” Dean sighed, plainly not optimistic.

“We’ll just have to work hard,” Castiel stated, standing and waiting for Dean to lead the way out of the diner and back to the dance studio, which he did. Leaving Sam to pay for their meal.

 

*****

 

“One two three, one two three, one two- You are not focusing! Because you are closer together for this dance, it will be more obvious if any of your movements are out of synch. Concentrate, get in tune with each other, and start again, from the top!” Sergeant barked, clapping her hands together twice. 

Sighing, Dean went back to the starting position, again, and tried to lead Cas through the graceful moves, but there was definitely something off between them. They’d been in so many battles together, been through so much, by now their movements when they fought were in perfect synchronicity. Last week that had carried over into the dancing. But now, they just weren’t… on the same page. Maybe they’d just been practicing too long today, or maybe Sammy’s presence in their hotel room was causing more strain between them than he’d realized. Whatever the reason, Cas looked distracted and Dean just couldn’t seem to draw his attention back to what they were doing.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! This is pointless. Go. Relax. Take a bubble bath together or something; get your heads back in the game. I do not expect to see you until after lunch tomorrow,” Natalie said, clearly frustrated.

“I apologize,” Castiel frowned, knowing he was the reason they were having trouble. Having a mind that actually occupied far more space than a human head, he could usually concentrate on a multitude of things simultaneously, but for some reason he’d been distracted thinking about the aborted discussion from this morning, and then adding worry that he’d messed up again by not telling Dean about the space under the theatre sooner.

“Yeah, sorry. We’ll do better tomorrow,” Dean added, unwilling to let Cas take all the blame when Dean hadn’t done enough to figure out what was distracting the angel and get him past it. Taking Cas’s hand, he led him to the Impala, not bothering to stop to change.

“Dean, isn’t the motel the other way?” Castiel asked as they headed out of the city.

“Yep,” Dean smirked as he turned up the volume on the classic rock station.

“Where are we-“ Castiel gave up as ‘Highway to Hell’ drowned his voice out. Instead of talking, he watched the scenery passing, buildings giving way to suburbs which gave way to woods. He hoped that first song wasn’t an omen; he'd had more than enough of hell already, both literally and metaphorically.

Dean pulled the impala onto an overgrown road barely visible from the highway. Less a road, more like two tracks in the dirt, the underbrush on either side making it nearly impassible in places. He hadn’t been here for nearly twenty years; Dad had brought him to the secluded spot on a hunt once when he was a teenager. Hoping Baby wasn’t getting too scratched up (he could fix a few scrapes if necessary; this was more important, and he couldn’t believe anything or anyone, other than Sam, was more important than his Baby, but Cas had more than earned that ranking), he made his way slowly down the lane, trying to keep to the ruts the woods were trying to reclaim. Cas had been silent the entire hour-long drive. Eventually, the trees gave way to an open stretch of sandy grass, the beach and shores of Lake Michigan spread out before them, sun barely visible on the horizon, sinking into the waters.

“What’s this?” Castiel asked, mesmerized by the view as he unbuckled and stepped out of the car, eyes never leaving the sight of the stunning sunset.

Dean shrugged as he got out, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I remembered this spot wasn’t too far away and wanted you to see it. I’m glad we made it before the sun fully set. Do you like it?”

“It’s… beautiful. Amazing. How did you even know it was here?”

“Dad and I were here hunting a wendigo years ago,” Dean replied, moving up to the line where grass met beach and toeing off his sneakers and socks. “I guess it’s a state nature preserve or something; no one comes here but the occasional DNR worker.” Dean’s shirt and shorts had joined the pile of footwear and he was just starting to slide down his boxer-briefs when Cas’s voice interrupted him.

“What are you doing?” Castiel asked, brows furrowed. He knew humans did not walk around naked in public. 

“Skinny-dipping,” Dean shrugged. “Coming?”

Castiel watched the last rays of the setting sun rippling on the glass-smooth surface of the lake, then moved to join Dean, folding his clothing neatly on top of his sneakers, each sock tucked into its corresponding shoe. “Is this… allowed?” he asked hesitantly.

“Nope. But don’t worry; like I said, it’s state land, no one’s gonna come here,” Dean replied, taking his angel’s hand and leading him to where the water pulsed against the sand.

“It’s cold,” Castiel frowned.

“Well, yeah, it’s kinda too much water for the sun to heat,” Dean chuckled, tugging Cas a few steps deeper. “Once our ankles are used to it, we’ll dive under all at once. Then our bodies will adjust to the temperature and it won’t feel cold anymore. But, hey, if you don’t wanna, we don’t have to,” He added, wondering if he was pushing too hard.

“No, it’s fine; I don’t feel physical discomfort unless I want to. I was more worried about you.”

“Oh, ok then. Ready to dive in?” Dean grinned, not waiting for an answer as he surged forward till the water reached his waist then dove down, swimming several more meters before rising, breaking the surface with his head but keeping most of his body underwater. Turning, he looked back at Cas, who still stood near the shore. “Coming?”

Brows furrowed as though not understanding Dean’s sudden desire to submerge himself in cold water, Castiel never the less walked forward, finding the sensation of the water rising against his skin odd. He didn’t dive under as Dean had, just continued walking slowly until he was in front of his lover, water rippling against his neck. “Now what?”

Dean pulled Cas into his arms, brushing their lips together. “Now, we talk.”

“Talk? While submerged in icy water?”

Dean chuckled. “It's not _that_ cold. And why not? We’re alone and relaxed, right?”

“You do seem to be relaxed. What did you want to talk about?” Castiel asked, struggling to understand what Dean’s purpose in bringing them all the way out here really was.

Sighing, Dean ran his hands up and down Cas’s back, pressing their bodies closer together. “Maybe about what’s got you so off-kilter today? You’ve seemed kinda… I don’t know, out of it? Distracted?”

“I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the space under the theatre sooner. It hadn’t occurred to me that it could be important, or that you didn’t know it was there.” Castiel rasped, frown deepening.

“It’s ok, Cas, I wasn’t mad at you about it, just frustrated with the whole damn thing. I mean, hell, I thought we’d go in, torch something and get back to the bunker. Now it feels like we’re spinning our wheels; wasting time. Maybe it’s just that it seems… wrong, spending weeks on some stupid reality show instead of having to save the world. Not that I’m complaining about not having to save the world. Don’t get me wrong, I mean it’s great and all, it just feels like… I don’t know, like I’m supposed to be preparing for the next big crisis or something.”

“Dean, you and Sam have more than earned a break for yourselves. Besides, I don’t think you teaching me to be a proper hunter, or spending a few weeks or months getting to know each other as lovers is wasted time.”

“Course not, Cas,” Dean replied, kissing him slow and deep and long enough that he nearly forgot they were supposed to be talking. “It just seems like there’s something else I should be doing so it’s frustrating spending so much time on one hunt. But hey, maybe I’m looking at it the wrong way. Maybe I should be thinking of this dance thing as, like, an extended vacation. With a bit of ghost busting on the side.”

“A vacation? I don’t think I’ve ever had a vacation,” Castiel commented, brows furrowed.

“Well, you’re having one now,” Dean grinned, suddenly feeling much better about their forced break. Rubbing their arousals against each other below the water’s surface, he leaned in to nip and suck at Cas’s neck, hands slipping down from his angel’s waist to knead against his ass.

Castiel let his head fall back, neck arching into the attention of Dean’s mouth, a moan escaping his parted lips as his hips rocked against Dean. His lover’s hands moved over his ass, squeezing, teasing, then a finger sliding to his anus to wiggle its way inside, stimulating the tight muscle and sending thrills of pleasure through his vessel. Without conscious thought, Castiel’s arms wrapped around Dean’s shoulders, legs coming up to encircle his waist, the water helping to support him as he rocked against Dean’s hard cock, drawing a moan against his throat from his lover that excited him much more than the physical attentions to his vessel. “Dean,” he rasped, “I want you.”

“Wow, zero to sixty,” Dean chuckled, licking up Cas’s neck to brush his teeth over his earlobe. “Unfortunately, I didn’t think this through very well. No lube.”

With a frustrated growl, Castiel slipped a hand down to his own ass, sliding a finger in alongside Dean’s, pushing both in further then cheating, using a bit of his power to slick himself up inside and loosen the tight ring of muscle. “I’m ready, Dean. I want you inside me,” he demanded, withdrawing his finger.

Blinking, Dean wriggled his finger, finding Cas was indeed moist and lax. Just to be sure, he slid in a second, then third finger, thrusting them in and out, eliciting moans from his angel. Capturing Cas’s mouth, he swallowed the sounds, kissing hard and deep, a hand coming up to press against the back of Cas’s head, threading into dark hair and holding him to the mercy of Dean’s tongue as it thrust in and out of Cas’s mouth, pouring all his pent-up passion into the kiss. Having Sam sharing their room had really been cramping their style. Cas’s legs were flexing as he screwed himself on Dean’s fingers, moans devoured hungrily between them.

“ _Dean, I want you._ Now.” Castiel gasped when Dean finally broke away for air.

With a growl of need, Dean withdrew his fingers, using the hand to lift Cas higher with a firm grip on his ass, other hand guiding his throbbing arousal to the waiting entrance. Much more easily than expected, he slid inside the tight, slick warmth, Cas’s thighs flexing around his waist to push himself down onto Dean’s cock, burying the length to the hilt in one swift, hard thrust. Cas moaned, leaning back to adjust the angle and began riding Dean, hard and fast, pleasure shuddering through him each time his prostate was hit and Dean slid a hand around to Cas’s back, supporting him without hindering his movement. The other hand wrapped around his angel’s arousal, a firm grip that Cas drove into as he rode his lover. Dean was trembling on the edge before he even realized, body wracked with pleasure at the feel of Cas thrusting onto him, and the look of wanton abandon on his face as his angel lost himself in pleasure. Pleasure that he took from Dean in a way no angel was supposed to want, let alone enjoy. “Damn, Cas, how did you… get so good… so fast,” he panted, struggling to hold back his release.

“I like making you happy,” Castiel smiled coyly, tightening around Dean and delighting in the way his eyes went wide, his name a strangled cry on his lover’s lips as he pushed Dean over the edge and he convulsed, shooting hot spurts of warmth inside Cas’s vessel. He gently pulled Dean’s hand from his cock, placing it with the other, around his back.

“Cas? You haven’t…” Dean asked, confused.

“I wanted to talk with you about something first,” Castiel replied, legs sliding off Dean’s waist and back to the sandy bottom of the lake. He took Dean’s hand and started wading back toward shore.

“Aww, I wanted to float for a while,” Dean said petulantly, though he allowed Cas to lead him out of the lake. The air was cool, but warmer than the water. Once back on dry land, Dean went to the Impala and grabbed their towels from their ‘workout’ bags (and what the hell had happened to his life that he now had a ‘workout’ bag), intending to bring them back to their clothes to dry off, but when he turned Cas was right there, trapping him within the triangle formed by the opened car door. Wordlessly, his angel took the towels from him, draping his own over his neck while using the other to begin wiping the dripping water from Dean’s body. “Cas?”

“We can talk inside the car,” Castiel replied, laying the damp towel over the backseat then using his own to dry himself. 

“Ooook, can I at least get dressed first?”

"No," Cas replied. Dean looked at him quizzically for a minute, then shrugged and climbed into the car. Following, Castiel sat beside Dean, turning to face him, expression serious. “Dean…” he started, then faltered, trying to find a way of saying what he wanted to without his lover refusing to hear it. “I know you don’t like to talk about sex, but this is important and I need you to hear me out.”

“Did I do something wrong? Is that why you didn’t- I mean, you looked like you were enjoying yourself quite a bit there, but if-“

“Dean. Hear me out?” Castiel interjected.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized, taking one of Cas’s hands and brushing a thumb over the back, fingers entwined. “I’m listening.”

“I did enjoy what we just did. A lot. I could have come even without manual stimulation if I’d let myself.”

“Why didn’t-“ Dean started but cut himself off when Cas’s eyes narrowed, making a motion of buttoning his lip though the angel probably didn’t know what it meant.

“I want you to know how good it feels too. And I want to know what it’s like to come inside you.” Castiel concluded, brows furrowing as he wondered if he’d been clear enough. Dean seemed to get uncomfortable when he talked about sex too specifically.

“That your way of saying you want to top?” Dean asked hesitantly.

Brows furrowed further, Castiel replied, “I don’t have to be on top; you can ride me if you’d rather?”

“I didn’t mean it literally,” Dean sighed. “To ‘top’ means being the one going in. As opposed to the one being gone into, the ‘bottom’. But, terminology aside, why are you wanting to do it that way now?”

“This morning, when Natalie was talking about switching roles in dancing, it occurred to me we haven’t tried that with sex. I don’t want you to miss out on something you might like just because we never bothered trying, or because of some misguided gender bias.”

“Ok, one, I am _not_ gender biased. And B, we’re both guys.”

“You’ve complained multiple times about being the ‘chick’ when we were dancing. And I’m pretty sure you think of the ‘bottom’ as the ‘chick’ role in sex,” Cas countered.

“I don’t- Cas, I’ve never though of you as feminine in any way, shape or form.”

“No, but you would think of yourself that way if you were the one receiving, right?”

Dean opened his mouth to say, ‘of course not’, then closed it when the words wouldn’t come out. Truth was, there was a part of him that did feel that way. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t think of Cas as any less of a man, why should he think of himself any differently? Was it because Cas wasn’t human? Because angels didn’t really have genders and Cas was only male because the poor sap he’d talked into ‘loaning’ him his body was a guy? But he didn’t think of Cas as genderless or female, just male. Ok, so what if it was some other guy taking it up the… He tried to imagine Sam in that role and whether it would make him feel any different about his brother, then bit his lip to hold back the laugh because this was serious, but damn, he so didn’t need to think about that, or about what kind of guy would manage to top his moose of a little brother. Either way, Sam would still be Sam. And Dean would still be Dean. Jesse and Cesar had told him it could hurt at first, especially if you weren’t prepped enough, but it also felt really good (which Dean hadn’t wanted to know and hadn’t been nearly drunk enough at the time to forget). Cas was right; he was being biased. Maybe because some part of him had always worried about that one time, when he was nineteen and Rhonda Hurley had convinced him to try on her panties, pink satin ones at that, and he’d kinda liked it. Though he knew that didn’t change who he was; badass hunter, saver of worlds, overprotective big brother, enthusiastic lover, owner of a sweet car better than the General Lee, he still knew the world would judge him for it. Not everyone, at least not the ones who mattered, but… Screw it. Screw the world and anyone who thought less of him for owning his likes. He’d already saved the world numerous times and he’d do it again if he had to, and if the world had a problem with him doing it in pink panties while being screwed by an angel it could just go ahead and burn.

“Dean? You’re being very quiet,” Castiel said softly, no longer able to sit and watch unfathomable emotions crossing Dean’s face and wondering if maybe he shouldn’t have brought the subject up.

“I’m thinking. It may not seem like it, but I do actually do that now and then.”

“Can I ask what you’re thinking about?”

“Isn’t it redundant to ask if you can ask something? Don’t answer that. I was thinking maybe you were right, maybe I have been a bit biased. And like you said earlier, I shouldn’t let that make me miss out on something I might like. So yeah, we can try, if you’re up for it.”

Castiel glanced down at his lap, where his arousal was mostly gone, though starting to twitch back to life at the thought of being inside Dean. “Not at the moment, but I doubt it will take long to correct that,” he replied, reaching a hand down to stroke himself.

“Let me,” Dean grinned, shifting onto his knees and leaning over to draw the flaccid organ into his mouth. Tonguing over it, he resisted tensing up as he felt Cas's fingers on his back, tracing lightly over the cool flesh as his angel hummed in appreciation and anticipation. Trying not to think too much about what Cas was anticipating, he focused instead on drawing more sounds of pleasure from him. Sucking his way down the underside of the swelling shaft, he blew cool breath over it then licked down to the sensitive spot behind the balls, tongue flicking against it as he thrilled to the raspy moans elicited. Though he still wasn't used to giving head, the way Cas enjoyed it inspired him to get lots more practice, every chance he could get. The fingers on his back trailed their way down, drawing a shiver from Dean as they brushed past his lower back and over his ass cheeks. Forcing himself to stay relaxed, he tongued his way back up to Cas's dick, taking the mostly-hard length into his mouth and swallowing him down deep as he felt a finger slip between his cheeks, pressing firmly over the hole there though not going past. Even so, Dean felt something inside, a tingling that left him feeling loose, relaxed, and when Cas's finger finally did slip into the somehow moist heat, there was no pain, just the warm digit sliding easily in and out before a second joined it, then a third. Cas pushed them deep, striking a spot that sent pleasure coursing through Dean and heat into his cock which began growing back toward arousal. Dean was moaning around the throbbing length in his mouth, subconsciously rocking onto the fingers inside him when Cas gently pulled him up, digits sliding out of his ass leaving a vacancy that craved to be filled.

"I think you're ready," Castiel rasped, voice even huskier than usual, made so by the desire to be inside his lover, to return some of the pleasure Dean gave him.

"I think you're right," Dean smirked, moving to straddle Cas's lap. "I should feel guilty about letting you angel mojo me, but I think in this case I'll let it slide," he added, settling in front of Cas's dick and rocking his hips so that the hard length rubbed between his ass cheeks.

"Dean," Castiel moaned, aching to be inside him. And then he was, Dean's hand reaching behind him to guide Castiel's cock to his entrance, legs flexing as he slid slowly down, taking in most of the throbbing length as they gazed intently at each other. For a moment, Dean remained that way, eyes wide, face unreadable as Castiel wondered what he was thinking, what he was feeling, if he liked it. Then Dean smiled, and began moving, slow at first but gaining speed as he got used to the feel. He was clearly enjoying it, and Castiel had wanted to let him have control this first time, but he knew Dean wasn't getting as much pleasure as he could and he wanted to make sure his lover felt as good as he made Castiel feel when the roles were reversed, so he scooted forward enough to pull Dean's legs up, wrapping them around his waist then turning so that he was on his knees, thrusting deeper as he kissed his lover into the seat-back, holding him tightly and swallowing his increasing moans. Castiel kept his strokes long and slow, but deep enough to send pleasure washing through his lover with every thrust.

"Cas," Dean moaned as he tore his lips away, "Harder. Faster."

"Are you sure?" Castiel asked, worried it might be too much for Dean's first time. The meaning of the answering growl was unmistakable and Castiel complied, gradually increasing the speed and strength of his thrusts, using Dean's vocalizations to guide him to the right tempo as he buried his face against his lover's neck and began sucking and nipping. The old car was rocking, springs complaining but Castiel barely registered it, too absorbed in Dean's pleasure as he drove into him, hard and fast. He was already past the point where his vessel wanted release, but he held it back easily, more concerned with Dean's climax than his own. Castiel could go as long as Dean needed him to.

"Damn, Cas, _so freakin good!_ Don't stop!" Dean panted, blunt nails digging into Cas's back, body shaking with pleasure, dripping with sweat as he felt the pressure building at the base of his cock 'til he was hovering near release. "So close. Touch me."

Castiel knew what he meant. He could come just from watching Dean's pleasure when his lover screwed him, but he knew humans didn't have that kind of control. Pulling back a bit to allow space between them, cool air rushing into the void, he released one of Dean's shoulders to reach down. But before getting between their bodies Dean stopped him, grabbing the hand and twining their fingers together.

"Wait. I think I- Can you go faster?" he groaned, head arching back, giving further access to his throat.

Obliging, Castiel moved even faster, thrusting hard as he grazed his teeth over the offered skin, aching at the trembling in Dean's body and needing desperately to push him over the edge. "Dean, can you come like this?" he rasped against his lover's neck. "I need to feel you come."

Whether from the increased speed, the sexy rasp of his angel's voice, the hand gripping his tightly, or the desperation in Cas's plea, Dean found himself suddenly coming so hard his vision darkened around the edges as Cas's name was torn from his lips. Cas came almost at the same time, twitching and thrusting through the orgasm as he filled his lover in hot spurts, Dean's name growled from his throat as they shook together long after there was anything left to spill.

"Holy shit, Cas, is that what it's like for you?" Dean asked as the aftershocks slowed to intermittent tremors.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. "My head may be inside you, but I'm not inside your head so I can't tell you if that was the same," he said with an attempt at humor. "However, it does feel very good when you're moving inside me. Though I suspect what you just felt may have been even better, judging by your reactions," Castiel continued, pressing their lips together softly then sliding his penis out, fingers of one hand brushing lightly over the entrance instantly removing the semen from inside Dean before it could leak out onto the towel. Keeping Dean's precious car clean was worth using a bit of power, but Castiel had a better idea for taking care of the mess Dean had spilled onto his own stomach. Settling him onto the towel, he bent down to lick the white streaks from his lover in long swipes from lower abdomen up firm muscles, chest, neck, all the way to his chin which hadn't escaped the force of his ejaculation, then returning to his starting point to lick another trail clean. Sapphire gaze locked on Dean's face, he took in his expression, which could have been approval, pleasure, humor, or some combination of the three. Either way, Dean didn't seem to mind so he took his time cleaning up every drop, saving his cock for last, by which time it was less over-sensitive. When Castiel finished, Dean pulled him up to lay on top of him across the back seat which really was both too short and narrow for two grown men. "Dean, I do enjoy 'cuddling' in post-coital bliss, but this isn't really the most comfortable space for it," Castiel pointed out.

"I know," Dean sighed, "I just don't wanna move. But we should probably go shake the sand out of our clothes so we can get dressed and head back."

"I'll take care of it," Castiel said, kissing Dean tenderly then getting out, being careful not to put too much weight on him. He fetched the clothes, setting them on the hood then shaking each item out thoroughly before handing it to Dean, who had reluctantly pulled himself up to sit on the side of the seat, feet resting in the sandy grass.

"Damn, I'm so rubbery I don't wanna move," Dean commented as Cas started shaking out and putting on his own clothes.

"Would you like me to drive us back?" Castiel offered.

"Cas, you know I love you, and I trust you with my life..." Dean started.

"But you don't trust me with your 'Baby'," Castiel finished for him with a grin.

Smiling back, Dean forced his legs to work, getting up and going to the driver's seat, turning the engine over so the heater could warm up to chase away the slight chill of the summer night. The air from the vent was just starting to warm when Cas got into the passenger seat. Managing to turn around on the small stretch of grass, Dean headed down the dirt tracks and back to the highway. Once out on the open road, he reached a hand over to Cas, who took it, twining their fingers together with a smile.

 

*****

 

Dance sessions with Natalie and a few fruitless, hurried searches for hidden doors filled the rest of the week. After their night at the lake, Dean and Castiel regained their synchronicity so practices went better, though the dance was still difficult. Even so, they rehearsed until they felt confident of the routine and still had time to learn the evening's group number. Dean missed a few steps in the dress rehearsal when they had to move around props that hadn't been there while they were learning, but Castiel surreptitiously corrected him and he kept his confidence so when time for the performance came around they were ready.

It only took two tries to get the opening dance filmed and then the individual dances began. Starting this week, dance order was determined by the previous week's score. Those with the lowest scores went first which meant Cas and Dean were fourth from last to go. Which also meant they had to watch nine other couples dance. Their costumes for this performance were actually the same as the previous dance, except this time they were tattered and ragged. Cas wore the dark suit pants and white dress shirt smudged with dirt and grime, no tie or suit jacket. His black trench coat topped it off, sleeves hanging in shreds from the shoulders, bottom of the coat in long shreds too, from waist to calf. Dean was in a tattered, dirty white tee with grease-smeared, holey jeans.

By the time it was their turn, Dean's soul was shining like a beacon and Castiel smiled at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the universe while Dean pulled him onto the stage, littered with mounds of rubble, as though they were being chased. The 'acting' involved in this dance was surprisingly easy for Castiel this week, but even if he'd had any worries, the way Dean's soul, pulsing with nerves and excitement, commanded his attention would have melted those fears away. Stopping in the center of the stage, Dean looked 360 degrees, seeing no escape from the apocalyptic scene as Metallica's 'Nothing Else Matters' started to play. His gaze came to rest on his partner, who was still watching him like he was the only other being in existence and, giving up any hope of escape, drew Castiel into his arms as they began to waltz. The show's extra dancers, dressed as zombies, waltzed slowly onto the stage, each dancing with an imaginary partner and all moving bit by bit toward Dean and Castiel, who swept gracefully around the scene, somehow missing the piles of rubble and moving out of reach of zombies just in time, though their eyes remained locked on each other, neither seeing nor caring about anything else. Movements perfectly in synch, they waltzed around the stage, the zombies encircling them closing in, cutting off their means of escape. Near the end of the song, a zombie got too close to Castiel and Dean barely noticed in time to turn his partner away, putting himself in the grasp of the zombie who pulled him backward, biting him. Castiel went after them, managing to rescue Dean a choreographed dance-fight later, but it was too late; he'd been bitten. As the stage lights dimmed till there was only a spotlight left on the pair they finished their waltz, gazing at each other in desperation that turned to determination as Dean's movements became more slow and jerky. As the last notes of the song began to fade Castiel nodded affirmation, head falling back as Dean swept him into a low dip, teeth closing over his exposed neck just before the spotlight went out. 

The small audience went wild, cheers a bit heavy on the female voices, though Sam's was easy enough for Dean to pick out. When the lights came back on, he and Cas bowed, then headed backstage to watch the last three performances. Relief at having managed to finish the routine without any glaring errors helped the time move faster, only slowing again as the pairs all came back on stage to hear their scores and find out who would be going home. Cas and Dean got second place this time, and Dean had to wonder why they turned to each other, grinning and hugging like idiots. Yeah, sure, he was stoked they did so good, but they weren't supposed to be trying to win; the sooner they got sent home, the sooner they could get back to hunting. Of course, they still hadn't found the damn director's body so it was just as well that they had another week to look. If they could find time for their real jobs around all the rehearsal. It was hard to think of it like a vacation, as he'd told Cas he would, when it involved so much work. But Cas was thrilled, Sam was thrilled, the producer was thrilled, Leah was super-thrilled, and Dean was doing a decent job of pretending to be thrilled. Another couple got sent home, mid-twenties-ish siblings; the girl had weak ankles which had tripped them up several times, earning them the lowest score. And everyone else was a week closer to being done with the damn show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really wishing I had a beta tester for this one; feels a bit choppy to me, but I just can't seem to concentrate on it right now. I'll reread it in a day or three and maybe make some corrections, but for now, it's up :D (btw, I imagine Natalie as having a slight accent, Russian I think, which is why she does not use contractions, if anyone has noticed)
> 
> I've got so many ideas for other fics I'm kicking myself for sticking them in a 12 week dance competition. but I'm hoping to start covering more weeks per chapter.
> 
> would love some feedback on how it's going. more dancing? less dancing? smut too fast, too slow, not enough, too much? should there be more focus on the hunt? hehe, I think my brain's just fried today, I'm not sure of anything. so, as always, feedback, comments, questions, corrections, suggestions always encouraged and appreciated!!! :D
> 
> update: I reread and found it didn't seem as choppy as i'd thought back when my brain was fried and didn't find anything to fix so... yeah. guess it's in its final version unless any wonderful readers happen to find something I missed :D


	4. Paso Doble, Charleston, Quickstep and Freestyle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three weeks later, the hunt finally makes some progress? Maybe?

“… Holy shit! Cas, Sammy, I think I found it!” Dean exclaimed, bringing the other two hunters running from the dressing rooms they were (illegally) examining. While giving Lily Vale’s dressing room a more thorough search, Dean had found a coat hook on the right of the inside of the wardrobe, which wouldn’t seem that strange except in the other three star dressing rooms (all larger and more opulent than the other 16 rooms), the wardrobes only had coat hooks on the inside of the door. Though it was only a small difference, Dean had managed to spot it and, upon inspection, sliding the hook up caused the back of the wardrobe to swing out into a spiral stairwell. By the time Cas and Sam joined him, Dean was already halfway down the wrought iron stairs, flashlight out and shining through cobwebs and dust.

“About time,” Sam complained, descending behind Cas, gun in his right hand, flashlight held beside it with his left.

“If we woulda just checked the dressing rooms first, like I wanted to…” Dean grumbled, looking back over his shoulder and seeing Cas and Sam, both with weapons and flashlights out in ready position. “You really think you need your guns? No one’s been down here in years and the ghost is locked up for now,” he pointed out sardonically.

“There’s nothing wrong with being cautious,” Castiel replied, keeping his weapon out though he heard Sam putting his away behind him.

“Whatever. Just don’t go shooting at rats,” Dean frowned, reaching the bottom of the stairs and aiming his flashlight at the walls by the stairwell in search of a light switch. He hadn’t really expected one. Somehow he’d thought the space would be just a big, empty concrete box, but it wasn’t. There was a switch on the wall next to the stairway, and when he flipped it, a large, old fashioned room was illuminated complete with faded wallpaper and wood wainscoting, wooden tables and chairs filling this half of the room, an old bar running the length of the far wall, and a large open area to the left beyond the tables. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust, cobwebs hanging from the chandeliers, chairs, and corners.

“Huh. It’s a speakeasy. No wonder it wasn’t on the building’s plans,” Sam commented as the three of them fanned out to explore.

“A speakeasy? Those were hidden bars that became popular when alcohol was outlawed in The United States during the 1920’s, right?” Castiel asked, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, flapper chicks and homemade hooch. Good times,” Dean grinned, crossing the room to check behind the bar.

“It’s not like you were there, Dean,” Sam pointed out.

“Not yet at least,” Dean smirked, looking through the dusty liquor bottles though he was pretty sure there wasn’t a body hiding in any of them. “But hey, I’ve seen movies.”

“Fiction,” Sam countered.

“Based on truth,” Dean retorted.

“Like you’d know.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Dean, Sam, I think I’ve found something,” Castiel stated, waiting until their usual banter had reached its conclusion. 

Making his way to where Cas was standing beside one of the tables near the open floor area, Dean found him paging through a handwritten book. “That’s not a body,” he pointed out needlessly.

“I know that, Dean,” Castiel replied, rolling his eyes. “But look at this,” he added, flipping the journal back to its first page, on which was written, ‘This is Me by Lily Vale’ in large, swirly cursive.

“Looks like a journal,” Sam said, joining them. 

“Yes. According to this, she and her director were in a ‘relationship’, which she ended after the death of their baby,” Castiel said.

Dean blinked. “You already read the whole thing?” 

“Less than half of the book is written in,” Castiel replied, sliding the book over to Dean, who picked it up and handed it to Sam.

“Don’t suppose it mentions finding or stashing Mike’s body somewhere in the theatre?” 

“If it had, I would have told you that first, Dean.” Castiel stated, hurt evident in his eyes. Over the past three weeks of searching for the entrance to the underground chamber, he had been especially careful to mention anything he found that could have been of import.

“Hey, it’s ok, Cas. I know you’d ‘ve told me somethin’ like that,” Dean soothed, clapping his angel on the shoulder. “Just hopin’ against hope for a shortcut. Spook’s way overdue for his date with a barbeque.”

“Yes. I’ll get back to searching,” Castiel replied, heading toward the wall to the right of the stairs. “There’s more space past this wall. Maybe there’s another concealed entrance?”

“I’ll help look,” Dean said, heading for the far corner and working his way slowly toward Cas, looking for anything incongruous. 

“Hey, guys, listen to this,” Sam said, moving to the table near the center of the wall and leaning his ass against its dusty surface as he read, “’I’m scared. Hiding the pregnancy made sense at first, but I think Mike may still be angry that I didn’t get an abortion.’ And then a few pages later, ‘She came too early. My beautiful Rose. The doctors said she just hadn’t developed enough, but when I researched it, the medical sites said most babies born 4-5 weeks premature were viable. Mike had been so nice recently, staying over, making meals for me, helping around the apartment; I was so relieved at the change in behavior, thinking he might be ready to acknowledge our relationship, it hadn’t occurred to me to be suspicious. But I am now. I’m sure he must have been poisoning me, hoping to cause a miscarriage. Especially when he pushed so hard to have our little baby girl cremated, burned to ash. How could he even… even suggest such a thing?!? Tomorrow I’m going to the police with my suspicions. When they …’ next few words are scribbled out and smudged but then, ‘Once they’ve checked I’ll know whether he caused her death or not, but either way, that man is never touching me again.’ That was the last entry.”

“Seems like if she went to the cops that woulda come up in your research,” Dean mused.

“Yeah, I looked for all police files related to both Lily Vale and Mike Johnson.   
Other than a suspected abuse form from a hospital and the report on her suicide there was nothing on Lily Vale. Mike had numerous domestic violence accusations that were filed on behalf of his ex-wife, but the charges were always dropped. And of course, the open file on his disappearance.”

“There a date on that entry?” Dean asked, though he was pretty sure he knew when it was written.

Flipping back through the pages ‘til he found the start of the entry, Sam nodded. “Yeah, it was written the day she died. It’s a good bet her ‘suicide’ had some assistance.”

“And not the Kevorkian type,” Dean nodded, frowning as he bumped Cas’s arm and realized he’d finished searching his side of the wall without finding anything. “Nothing.”

“Me either,” Castiel frowned.

“Guys, we gotta get going or Leah’s gonna lock us inside,” Sam said, showing them the text she’d just sent on his phone.

“We’ll just have to come back,” Dean sighed, heading for the spiral stairs. Cas followed. Tucking the journal and his phone into inside jacket pockets, Sam left too, turning off the lights before ascending the stairs.

 

*****

 

“Dean, it’s just a scrape,” Castiel soothed, trying to get his partner to be reasonable once they were back in their room (Sam had finally been able to get his own room the week before last when one of the eliminated couples had left a vacancy). He wished Dean would let him heal the small cut and surrounding bruise on his temple, but since it had happened during dress rehearsal and everyone had seen it, Dean had refused.

“Yeah, a scrape they’ll be expecting to have to cover with makeup tomorrow. It’s fine, Cas; doesn’t even hurt,” Dean sighed, sitting on the bed.

“Then why are you so agitated?” Castiel asked, at a loss to understand his lover’s mood.

“It’s not the cut. It’s just, when you tried to heal it, it reminded me; you’re not human.”

“…Dean, you’ve known that since we met. It should not come as a revelation now.”

“Context, man. It just hit me that maybe it’s kinda like cheating in this dance thing. Especially with this routine, which relies so much on your super-human strength. Maybe we should… drop out,” Dean suggested.

“Dean, we can’t withdraw now. Apparently, we’re a ‘crowd favorite’.”

“But we can’t win this thing. That just wouldn’t be right. Maybe we can… I don’t know, fake an injury or something?”

“Faking an injury would go against the intent of the contract we signed. But I understand your reluctance to win. If we aren’t eliminated before the competition gets to the last four pairs, I will make sure we are not in the final three,” Castiel promised. “But until then, we should continue to do our best. The producer has said this season’s ratings have been the highest ever and she thinks you and I have a lot to do with the increased popularity.”

“I don’t know about that. Kendra and Rick are amazing; they’ve gotten first place every week and broken all kinds of DANCE records.”

“Yes. Lainey and Sean are quite good as well. As are we. And if we want to do our best tomorrow, you should probably sleep,” Castiel pointed out.

“Can’t. Too worked up,” Dean said, stripping down to his boxer-briefs and scooting up to sit against the pillows.

Removing his own outer layers, Castiel got onto the bed wearing just his white undershirt and plaid boxers, settling himself against the pillows beside Dean. “I can help with that,” he said, turning and reaching a hand toward his lover’s forehead.

“Woah, hey, we talked about this; no angel mojo,” Dean protested, moving out of reach.

“I know that Dean. I wasn’t going to. Come here,” Castiel sighed. When Dean warily moved back in range, Castiel brushed his fingers lightly over the bandage covering his scrape, then trailed down over his jawline, cupping his cheek and drawing him closer for a slow, languid kiss. With very little effort, he slid Dean down the bed, lips intent on his lover’s as his head sank into the pillow. Slowly, gently, his hands roamed the firm planes of Dean’s body, mapping his tension and easing it away. Exploring every inch of exposed skin, it wasn’t long before he was swallowing Dean’s moans, grinning against his lips at the way his lover’s hips arched off the bed, trying to get friction against his neglected erection.

Unable to stand any more teasing, Dean broke the kiss to moan, “Cas, you gotta… I can’t… Touch me, dammit. My dick.” The last was added to circumvent Cas saying he already was touching him.

Castiel pushed up onto his hands and knees to smirk down at Dean, who blinked back at him, confused at the loss of contact and wondering what he was up to. Keeping his gaze locked on Dean’s, he crawled slowly down his body, not touching, enjoying the way his lover’s upper body raised almost subconsciously to rest on his elbows, as though they were linked by a fixed distance. Carefully, his teeth found the waistband of Dean’s underwear and tugged them down, just enough for his hard cock to spring free. Grinning at the way his lover’s eyes widened, he flicked his tongue lightly over the tip, tasting the tang of pre-cum and eliciting a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan. Dean was trembling with need which Castiel delighted in drawing out, tongue tracing over the heated, twitching flesh, teasing sounds of pleasure and mounting desperation from his lover. Finally granting mercy, he swallowed Dean’s cock down swiftly to the base then sucked hard as he began pumping his mouth over the hard length, swiftly bringing his lover to the edge and then over when he took him down to the base and swallowed around his head, drinking down the resulting liquid. He milked the release until Dean was whimpering, then tucked the softening length back into his underwear before crawling back up to lay beside him.

Languidly rolling over, Dean rested an arm possessively over his angel’s chest, head on his shoulder. “That was frickin’ amazing,” he purred. “Gonna return the favor soon’s I can move.”

“That would just work you up and keep you awake longer. My intent was to help you sleep. Besides, the warm pulses coming from your soul right now are more than enough reciprocation. You really are beautiful, Dean,” Castiel said softly, soothing a palm over Dean’s back. “Get some sleep,” he whispered, brushing his lips over his lover’s forehead. He could have used the gesture to ‘angel mojo’ him, but it wasn’t necessary; Dean’s breathing had already evened out, heartbeat slowed, body relaxed.

For a long time Castiel just remained like that, not thinking of anything except the warm glow he held in his arms and how happy he was that he’d pushed their relationship toward physical intimacy, which he felt had brought them closer in other ways as well. And though he knew Dean was displeased with the amount of time they were spending on this competition, Castiel was secretly glad they were in it. Dancing required discipline, strength, flexibility, and trust between partners. Much like hunting, really. Actually, it also required acting, at which Dean insisted Castiel was greatly improving. Everything they were doing for the competition translated into hunter training, with the added benefit of spending hours on end close to and touching each other. Yes, it was definitely a good experience for them both. One into which he was putting full effort, even though they weren’t going to win. If they didn’t get eliminated tomorrow (which could happen though by this point it was highly doubtful), next week they would have to improve a previous routine in addition to learning a new one. So Castiel spent the rest of the night replaying the routines in his mind.

The first week had been the salsa in the street dance to Styx’s Blue Collar Man. Though it was their first performance, they had done well, earning a 7 from both the older and younger male judges, and a 9 from the female judge. It was a fun, fairly effortless dance.

Second week was the zombie waltz, which, so far, was Castiel’s favorite. The song, Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, was one that truly resonated with the way he felt about Dean (and Sam as well, the three of them a unit of brothers closer than he’d ever been with his angel brethren). The conclusion of the story portrayed by the dance had also struck him hard, the dancers choosing to live together as monsters rather than kill the one who’d been zombified. It was disturbingly reminiscent of the times Dean had been turned into a monster, though Sam had always found a way to cure him, and Castiel had been prepared to kill him rather than let him hurt people, because helping people was who Dean was. Now though… he would do everything both in his power and beyond to save Dean, and if he couldn’t, they’d die together. If they chose to do the zombie waltz again, he would request a change of the ending. The older male, younger male, and female judges had given them 8, 9, and 10 respectively.

For the third week, they did a paso doble. Closing his eyes, Castiel watched the dance replay in his consciousness. Dressed in loose black slacks that clenched at the ankles, a red sash around his waist, and a puffy black shirt, Castiel entered from stage right. Dean, dressed in the same style but with the colors reversed -red pants and shirt, black sash- entered stage left and as Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger began, they circled each other, not ‘attacking’ until the words began. Traditionally, the paso doble was meant to mimic a bull-fighter, the female partner representing his red cape with which he taunted the bull. For their interpretation, Natalie had choreographed the bull-fight itself, with Castiel as the bull and Dean the matador. Trading the lead back and forth, they came together, danced, separated, circled, ‘attacked’ again, neither able to keep the upper hand. At the end of the dance, Castiel rushed Dean from across the stage like a charging bull and tossed him high into the air, where Dean flipped, feet appearing to knock Castiel to the ground on his back (though it was actually a choreographed fall), and landing on hands and feet, crouching over the ‘bull’s’ prone form, grinning in triumph. Strongly believing Bull-fights were barbaric, Castiel hadn’t cared for the dance at all. But the judges apparently liked the interpretation and they hadn’t made any glaring mistakes. Scores for that one had been 8, 8, and 9.

Week four had been the Charleston. Of all the dance styles they’d done, this one had the greatest equality between partners. Natalie had taken advantage of that inherent balance. The curtain rose on Castiel and Dean, both wearing tight, stretchy black leggings (which Dean had protested profusely), white dress shirts that hung down to their thighs, and sparkly black vests, standing center stage, facing the audience. As Proud Mary by Creedence Clearwater Revival played, they danced in perfect synchronicity, sometimes facing the audience, sometimes each other, sometimes stage left or right, but always in tandem with neither leading or following. When the line ‘Rolling, rolling, rolling on a river’ came, the pair, stage right, went back to back, arms linked at the elbows, and Castiel bent forward toward stage left, Dean pushing off the floor to flip over his partner’s back, bending backward as he landed on his feet, Castiel pushing off to flip over Dean, who then flipped over him and flipped Castiel again. Only four flips in total, which brought them to the other side of the stage, but the move gave the impression of a steamboat’s waterwheel and the audience loved it, though they lost points from the judges because they’d wobbled a bit in the middle and stumbled after the last flip. Recovering quickly, they’d gone back into the synched movements, arms and legs moving swiftly, at the same speed and height, though there was another small mistake as they moved stage left for the second flip sequence, which was the same as the first, except Dean started it and they went from stage left to right without the stumble at the end, though they were still a bit wobbly in the middle. Dancing back to center stage, the performance ended with a mirrored pose, Dean’s right arm and leg extended, fingers splayed, left hand clasping Castiel’s, whose left arm and leg were extended, fingers spread. Despite the mistakes and receiving their lowest scores, 6, 7, and 7, this had actually been Castiel’s second favorite dance. It was also the one they’d made the most technical mistakes in which meant it might be the easiest and best to improve upon.

Last week had been the quickstep, danced to Sweet’s Ballroom Blitz. Kind of a fusion between the dance from Dirty Dancing (foxtrot), and the Charleston. For that one, Dean had worn a black tux with green bow-tie, green cummerbund, and extra long tails. Castiel’s black tux had blue accents and the jacket was short, ending at his waist; no tails at all. The ‘story’ of the routine wasn’t much of a story, just a couple at a ballroom dance that got a bit wild. The moves hadn’t been hard to learn because they’d done most of them before, aside from a few new lifts and one where he spun Dean on the floor. All in all, a solid routine that had earned them scores of 8, 10, and 10.

If tonight’s routine went as well as he expected, they would do even better. Castiel decided he would definitely suggest their riverboat Charleston for next week’s improvement dance. That settled, he shut down most parts of his concentration, focusing again on the warm soul pulsing against him, only a couple tendrils of thought keeping watch for dangers to them or Sam.

 

*****

 

Casting a nervous glance at Cas where they waited in the wings, Dean took a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves. He hadn’t liked Sergent’s description of what she’d wanted to do for their Freestyle dance but had grudgingly agreed when she’d accepted his song choice for the routine. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Cas; he did, implicitly. But, as they’d seen at last night’s dress rehearsal, other people’s mistakes could affect their performance too. In last night’s case, it had been a prop set one inch out of place. The resulting scrape he’d gotten when Cas’s swing had brushed his head against the corner of a carpeted stair, was currently covered with makeup and he was itching like crazy to scratch it, which he couldn’t. Instead, he scratched his right eyebrow, then smoothed it back down. 

“Don’t worry,” Castiel said, squeezing Dean’s hand, “I’ve got you.” As soon as the curtains closed for scene change, he dashed onto the stage, watching the placement of scenery and props, making sure everything was exactly where it needed to be. Then he returned to Dean’s side, squeezing his hand again. They were both wearing jeans and t-shirts, Castiel’s blue with a green flannel fastened around his waist, Dean’s green with blue flannel around his waist. As with Dean’s outfit in their first dance, the flannels were actually sewn onto the jeans everywhere except where they were knotted in the front which would keep them from being pulled off during the complicated routine. This scene was basically just two partners practicing for a dance competition which meant no need for acting, though Castiel did feel he was getting better at it.

Dean grinned at his partner as the curtain rose and Aerosmith’s Rag Doll began to play, Cas pulling him onto the stage. The song was a perfect choice, because almost the entire routine had Cas tossing Dean around like a rag doll. They swung around each other, hands joined, then traded places a couple times, and then Cas was swinging Dean in an up and down circle by his feet, this time his head clearing the steps by at least an inch. At the end of the move Cas swung him up until Dean was standing on the angel’s hands, Cas’s arms straight above his head. Then the hands dropped, Dean falling to sitting on Cas’s shoulders, then bending backward, one of Cas’s hands holding his leg, the other reaching behind to hold Dean’s chest. When Cas released his leg, Dean flipped down, landing behind him, hands reaching out between Cas’s legs where Cas grabbed them, pulling Dean through and up. A few steps later they were dancing their way up the curved, carpeted stairs, one on each side and meeting on the platform in the middle where they danced some more, then backflipped together, hands joined, back to the stage. Pulling Dean closer, Cas whipped his partner’s body around his, over his shoulder, around his waist, back over the other shoulder, like a snake slithering smoothly over his body. The move evolved into a jitterbug with a modified ending. Cas swung Dean to one side, then up, other side then up, back to the first side, then up, other side and up once more, but this time he added just enough momentum to push him higher, Dean doing a handstand on top of Cas’s hands, only a slight wobble as he caught his balance. The hardest part of the routine was when Cas began spreading his arms, lowering Dean as they gazed at each other, until their lips brushed together, then raised him back up enough for Dean to straighten his head, giving an upside-down grin to the audience. Then the hands were gone, dropping Dean headfirst toward the stage. At the last second, Cas caught him around the knees, swinging him around his back and up to his shoulders where Dean pushed himself into a handstand, then sprung up, doing a backflip and landing crouched in front of Cas, arms spread wide, Cas’s right hand punching the air as the music stopped.

The audience had been going wild throughout the entire routine, but at the finish the noise was deafening. Castiel and Dean stood and bowed, bowed again when the noise refused to die down, then grinned and shrugged at each other, waving as they walked off stage to the continuing tumultuous applause. Once backstage, curtains closed to change set for the last performers, the partners collapsed against each other. Unable to even watch the last performance, they didn’t separate until it was time to go back on stage for the scores. Boos from the audience were very vocal when the older guy gave them a 9, but the other two scores were 10 and 10, earning them first place to thunderous applause. Topping that was going to be hard, but Castiel intended to do his best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, only one day late this week :D next week's will probably be later though; going camping this weekend and my laptop died >.<
> 
> only one or two more chapters for this story, though I already have an idea for a new story in this continuum that i'll probably be working on after the guys are done dancing. also have a couple other stories I'm juggling so... brain explodey hehehe.
> 
> as always, comments, questions, corrections and suggestions encouraged and greatly appreciated :D


	5. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visit has Sam running for the bunker while Dean and Cas finish their last days at the dance competition with plenty of surprises, both good and bad.

**Chapter Tags:** Crowley (Supernatural), brotherly teasing, sixty-nine, complete, NSFW -I tend to forget that tag, since the explicit rating already suggests it, and also, pretty much every chapter of everything I've posted so far has been NSFW :D

 

“Dean, you can’t drink that; it’s like, a hundred years old,” Sam pointed out.

“Hey, it’s still sealed and whiskey don’t go bad,” Dean countered, slamming his empty rocks glass on the counter before sliding the measure he just poured down the bar through the dust to Sammy, then refilling his own glass. He offered the rest of the bottle to Cas, who raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“Whatever,” Sam shrugged, rolling his eyes and taking a sip. “Huh. That’s actually pretty good.”

“Right? Just be careful, this stuff’s like, two hundred proof.”

“Says the guy who’s already on his second glass?” Sam pointed out.

“Hey, I can hold my liquor and _I’m_ not the one who’s a whiny drunk,” Dean teased.

“Oh, come on, Dean, that was _one_ time,” Sam protested.

“One time too many,” Dean shot back under his breath.

“Anyway, why are we sitting here drinking?” Sam asked, pretending not to have heard Dean’s mumbled retort.

Dean shrugged. “Why not? Haven’t found the damn body yet and we’ve been searching this room for weeks. Who knows, maybe there’s a switch under one of these bottles.”

“Or maybe one of the bottles is the switch itself?” Castiel suggested.

“Cas, I was joking.”

“I wasn’t.” Castiel stated.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’ve checked all the bottles three times already,” he admitted.

“Then why did you say-“ Castiel started to ask, brows furrowed.

“Told you. Joking.”

Castiel’s brows scrunched together further. “How was that humorous?”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas, it wasn’t really that funny,” Sam interjected.

“You just don’t have a sense of humor,” Dean complained.

“Sure I do. I mean, you’ve had me cracking up every Tuesday night for the past six weeks,” Sam teased.

“Yeah, right. I can hear your big mouth over everyone else in the audience and I know the difference between laughing and cheering. Admit it. You’re impressed.”

“Dude, weren’t you wearing tights a few weeks ago?” Sam grinned, wanting to get in another dig.

“So was Cas,” Dean deflected.

“The gave a very nice view of your ass,” Cas interjected.

Sam blinked, looking from Cas to Dean and back, then burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, uncle! I admit it, I’m impressed. Very impressed. The two of you, you’re just, you’re freakin’ amazing. I mean, I really was expecting some comedy gold, maybe some rehearsal phone vids to send to Jody for a laugh, but… Even when you’re still learning the dance, you’re both so serious about it. And then with the costumes and sets and music and you just… you blow everyone out of the water. And if that dick older judge wasn’t docking you points for not being a ‘traditional’ couple, you’d be in first place.”

Dean grinned, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Nah, the chick judge gives us extra points for not being a ‘traditional’ couple so she offsets the older guy.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Dean, she gives almost everyone higher scores than the other judges. She’s not favoring you because you’re both guys, she’s favoring you because you’re _good_.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like I said, if the older guy was scoring fairly, you’d be in first. And hell, even he’s starting to overlook the gender thing. Gave you a nine on your freestyle with a legit reason for it not being a ten. Legit for him at least.”

“Right. More dance, less ‘cheerleader acrobatics’,” Dean laughed, impersonating the old guy’s accent which had Sammy and even Cas joining in.

“Hello, boys,” came a familiar, similar accent from across the room, interrupting the laughter. They looked to see Crowley standing at the bottom of the spiral staircase.

“What the hell? Crowley? What are you doing here?” Sam frowned.

“Looking for you three, obviously.”

“How the fuck did you know where we were?” Dean demanded.

“Hello? King of hell? I have my resources,” Crowley replied calmly, crossing the room and joining Dean behind the bar. Going straight to an unlabeled decanter at the far end of the counter, he opened it and poured himself a couple fingers of amber liquid, taking a sip and smacking his lips lightly. “Ahh, that’s the stuff,” he grinned.

“Ok, never mind the how. _Why_ are you here?” Dean asked with a glare that said get to the point before the weapons start coming out.

“Much as it pains me to say, I find myself in need of your… assistance.”

“And why exactly would we help _you_?” Sam growled.

“You wouldn’t,” Crowley shrugged. “Oh, stop with the over-dramatic glare, Moose. I’m not wasting your time. I know you and Squirrel wouldn’t so much as spit on me if I was on fire, regardless of how many times I've saved your bacon. However, I thought you might be interested in helping an old friend of yours. And if, in doing so, that happened to help me as well, you’d overlook it in the interest of mutual benefit.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam spat, borrowing Dean’s ‘get to the point’ glare.

“The archangel Gabriel. He’s alive.”

“Bit behind on the times there, Crowley. Lucifer killed him years ago. And he wasn’t really a friend,” Dean said, downing the rest of his whiskey then pouring himself another, forgetting his earlier warning about the strength of the stuff.

“No, Lucifer only _thought_ he killed him. I have it on good authority he survived; pulled a runner and went into hiding. However, he wound up in the hands of one Asmodeus, Prince of Hell.”

“Prince of Hell? I take it you’re not talking about Gavin?” Dean frowned.

“My son is a kitten in a room full of fluff and flowers compared to the true Princes of Hell. Remember old yellow-eyes? Killed your mum? And your dad too, come to think of it.”

“Crowley,” Dean warned.

“Relax, relax, don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m getting to it. Back when old Luci decided to make demons, the first ones he made after Lilith, the strongest, meant to lead his armies against humanity, were the Princes of Hell. After dear old Daddy locked Lucifer away, Azazel, yellow-eyes to you, ruled hell until you killed him. Lilith took over ‘til you killed her too. Then, after you shoved Lucifer back in his box, I went to the next in line, Ramiel, offering him the crown. He declined, telling me to take the job myself and leave him and the other two princes, Dagon and Asmodeus, well out of it. Supposedly they were all perfectly content to live quiet lives on earth among the rabble.”

“And that’s changed?” Castiel asked, having been quiet up till then. He knew of the Princes of Hell; knew they were bad news.

Crowley sighed, frowning at his empty glass and pouring himself another. “Yes. Apparently Asmodeus wasn’t as unconcerned with Hell as his siblings. He only ‘allowed’ me the throne because he was too week to take it himself. But he’s had Gabriel for years and has apparently developed himself a pretty bad archangel grace addiction. Meaning he’s powerful. Very powerful. A source tipped me off that he’s planning a hostile takeover soon and with him hopped up on archangel grace, I’ll be on a bit more uneven footing than I’d like. Which is where you three come in.”

“We’re not gonna fight your battles for you, Crowley,” Dean growled.

“Duh,” Crowley replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t ask you to. Besides, how would I look to my subjects if I had you take out a challenge to the throne for me? No, I fully intend to take care of Asmodeus myself. What I need from you is help getting him on equal footing with yours truly. Basically, find where he’s hiding and snatch the archangel along with any grace he may have stored up. Win-win. I get an opponent not hopped up on archangel juice, you get Gabriel back, as well as not having a Prince of Hell on the throne. Which, believe me, you do _not_ want; devil you know and all that.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Think, Moose. If I have spies in his camp, he’s sure to have them in mine. Going up against him while he’s still on the juice would be suicide.”

“So you want us expendables to do it instead?” Dean snarked.

“Of course not. I don’t expect you to get anywhere near Asmodeus. Once you find his hidey-hole, you let me know and I’ll draw him out of the nest, then you swoop in and steal the eggs,” Crowley shrugged.

“You make it sound so easy,” Sam grumbled.

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy; he’ll still have plenty of demons guarding his supply. But it will be doable once Asmodeus is out of the way.”

"What's the timetable on this? We're still kinda in the middle of a hunt here," Sam asked.

"Sammy, no! We are _not_ working with Crowley. He screws us over every time," Dean barked.

"Not until after we've accomplished our common goal. And what gives, you're usually the one jumping on the Crowley bandwagon every time he wants to work together."

Dean's face flushed, though whether with anger or embarrassment who could say? "When it comes to preventing an apocalypse, yeah. Not to help the bastard keep his throne."

"As I already stated, Squirrel, it's not to help me keep the throne; it's to prevent Asmodeus gaining it. You know I'm a businessman. Humans have needs, my demons fill them. You may not like it, but even you should appreciate that I stick to the rules, don't let my demons run amuck. But Asmodeus, now, he's all about Lucifer's original plan; lead the armies of hell to wipe out the human infestation. And with the power of an archangel behind him, he'll do it, too. As for your current hunt..." Crowley added, flipping a lever under the bar, "you're welcome." A door slid open, granting entrance to the space they'd been trying to get into.

Castiel's brows furrowed. "How did you-?"

"Been here before. Back when it was in use," Crowley replied briskly, following Moose and Squirrel into the newly revealed room, which was situated under the stage. Castiel followed behind. "Dumb shit got his leg tangled in the rope when he tossed his girlfriend's body off the catwalk. Fell through the trap door on the stage and landed here with a snapped neck. Died instantly. A mercy he didn't deserve, for which he has been paying in hell ever since," he added, nodding at the bones piled in the center of the room, which must not have been air-tight because there was no flesh left or mummification, and the scent of old rot was so slight it was barely discernable.

"And how exactly do you know all that? I doubt you've memorized the life story of every damned -pun intended- soul in hell?" Dean quipped as he went to the bones, salted and burned them. The floor, being concrete, wouldn't catch fire, and the flames wouldn't get high enough to damage anything.

"After I found out where you boys were, I did some research. Didn't want whatever you were here for giving you an excuse to say no. Wasn't hard to find the bastard's soul once I knew who I was looking for. Guy was a real piece of work. Killed his own kid to protect his reputation, then offed the baby momma when she told the bastard to bugger off. Now, we good? Ready to go rescue an archangel?"

"You said we need to 'find his hidey-hole'. Any clues on where to start?" Sam asked as they all trooped back to the bar for another round.

"My source wasn't privy to the location of the Bat Cave, although I can say with some confidence that it's somewhere in the southeastern United States. Beyond that, you're on your own," Crowley shrugged, grabbing the decanter of liquor he'd been drinking then disappearing.

"Well, that's just great. He couldn't give us something more to go on?" Dean groused, pouring Sammy and himself another drink. "We sure we should even be doing this? I mean, it's Crowley. You know he's just gonna screw us over."

"Hey, at least he narrowed it down to one quarter of the U.S. Better than having to search the whole world. And Crowley... yeah, he's not really one of the good guys, but at least he's predictable. He's right too; better him on the throne than someone worse," Sam replied. "I think I need to head back to the bunker; see if any of the books there mention demon signs specific to princes of hell. Sucks though, I'm gonna miss your last performances."

"Screw the last performances; we're coming with. This is way more important than some stupid dance show," Dean asserted.

"To do research? Dean, you know you hate that stuff. Besides, there's less than two weeks left; like, nine, ten days, right? Just stay here and see this thing through. I'll call you when I've got something," Sam said, standing and finishing his whiskey before turning toward the stairs.

"Just make sure you call the minute you have anything. I don't want you going off half-cocked trying to do this on your own for whatever stupid reason you're gonna give yourself. Cas and I will be out of this thing tomorrow night either way; not fair to have an angel in the finals."

"Even if you don't make the finals, the last episode's being filmed a week from Wednesday, right? And you gotta be there for that. Relax. I got this. And I promise, soon as I have anything, I'll let you know. Now, don't you have a dress rehearsal to get to? Break a leg, you two," Sam grinned, heading up the spiral stairs.

"Damn. He's right, we need to go get changed. Cas, you didn't forget, right? You said you'd make sure we weren't in the finals."

"Of course, Dean. We will be eliminated after our performance tomorrow night. However, I'm really looking forward to doing our waltz again," Castiel smiled.

"Me too," Dean grinned. "It's nice spending a few minutes being the only two people in the world."

"Dean, we aren't really-"

"Figuratively, Cas. Wasn't being literal."

"Oh. Of course. We should go get changed," Castiel said abruptly, slightly embarrassed at having missed that one. He headed for the stairs, not even looking back to see if Dean was coming.

Dean watched Cas go, then finished his whiskey with a shrug and followed.

 

*****

 

"Dean, are you certain we should remove them?" Castiel asked as the summer evening breeze sent the bottom of his coat to billowing.

"Nope," Dean replied, retrieving the first mojo bag from behind its brick. "Which is why we have to."

"Dean, that doesn't make any sense," Castiel said, eyebrows furrowed.

"Look, as long as they're here, the ghost can't appear, right? So we won't know if he's really gone unless we remove them and he doesn't show. Makes sense, right?"

"No. You can’t prove a negative, Dean. Besides, if you aren't sure burning the body eliminated the ghost, why not just leave the hoodoo in place?"

"Cas, they'd have to be refreshed every few months to remain effective. It's better to make sure he's gone for good." Dean explained, removing the second bag and heading to the next corner.

"What if he's still here but doesn't make his presence known?" Castiel asked.

"Then we'll just come back when he does make his presence known," Dean shrugged, retrieving the third bag then going to the last corner.

"Is that wise? What if he kills again?"

"We'll just have to deal. Hopefully, he's already gone. Or at least, if not, he decides to come after us instead of someone else. I mean, I did torch his bones. Pretty sure if it didn't get rid of him he'd be a bit pissed about that."

"You have a talent for understatement," Castiel commented as they headed back to the stairway after collecting the last mojo bag.

"It's a gift," Dean smirked as they headed down to join Leah, who was waiting to lock up after them.

After warning Leah that the ghost might return and to be extra careful, it was a short car ride back to the motel. Once back in their room, Dean pulled his burger and fries out of the fast food bag, along with a salad, which he frowned at. He'd promised Sammy he'd start eating better, but who the hell voluntarily ate rabbit food? Grimacing, he piled some of the green crap onto his burger (on top of the lettuce and tomato already there) and took a bite, relieved when the greasy, meaty goodness covered up the veggie flavor.

"Sam is right to be worried about your cholesterol," Castiel commented as he sat across from Dean.

"Dude, stay outta my head, Cas," Dean replied after swallowing his bite.

"I'm not in your head," Castiel replied with his signature confused look.

"I mean no reading my mind," Dean clarified before taking another bite.

"I know what you meant, Dean. I wasn't reading your mind. You don't like salad but are eating some as Sam asked you to the other day. I simply observed that his concern over your food choices is warranted."

"Hey, it's not like you can't just angel mojo my veins clean or whatever, right?"

"I thought you didn't like me using my 'angel mojo'?"

"Yeah, for mundane shit. You can use it for good stuff though."

"So undoing the harm you do to your own body which you could correct by adding a few vegetables into your diet isn't mundane?"

"I thought you liked taking care of my body?" Dean smirked as he crumpled up his burger and fry wrappers and lobbed them into the wastebasket.

"Of course I do, Dean. I just wish you'd make some effort to take care of your own body too. And I'm not making allusions to masturbation," Castiel said, pulling Dean up from his chair then sliding his arms around Dean's waist and kissing him as though he could transmit his concern for Dean's health through the contact.

Dean returned the kiss, slow, tender, and thorough. When it broke he said, as gently as he could, "Cas, I love you man, but you're not my wife, and you're not my mom."

"I'm not some magical healer you can carry around in your pocket either, Dean. I'm your partner. That means we look out for each other, right? I know greasy foods make you happy and I don't want you to stop eating them, just add some balance to your diet."

"Cas," Dean said, grinning as he pushed his angel backward onto the bed and crawled over him, "we've really gotta work on your dirty-talk."

"I was trying to be serious, Dean," Castiel frowned, watching Dean's fingers as they made quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

"So'm I" Dean smirked, pushing Cas's shirt open to run his hands over the firm, warm flesh beneath. He bent his lips to follow the path of his hands, moving up his angel's abdomen, teeth grazing lightly over nipples, nipping their way across collar bone to neck then up to his ear where he teased the lobe carefully between his teeth. "Very serious," he breathed.

“Dean,” Castiel moaned, “we have a performance tomorrow.” Considering his hips were arching up against Dean, arousals rubbing against each other through their pants, the protest held little weight.

“Hey, there are plenty of ways to have fun that won’t leave us sore tomorrow,” Dean grinned, standing up and slowly stripping, predatory eyes holding his partner’s gaze.

Sitting up, Castiel licked his lips, hungrily watching the very arousing strip tease. Once the hunter was completely bare, he stepped up to Castiel who reached for him with the intent of taking the hardening length before him into his mouth and driving him wild.

However, Dean had other plans, stopping Cas with a hand on his shoulder and pulling his opened shirt the rest of the way off him before pushing Cas back onto the bed with a devilish grin. He unfastened his angel’s pants and yanked them off. Boxers and socks followed quickly and then Dean was manhandling Cas into position on the bed, laying lengthwise on his back.

“Dean, what are you-?” 

Cutting him off with a heated kiss, Dean straddled Cas, twining their fingers together. For a long time they just kissed, tongues thrusting, hips rocking together slowly, hands locked tightly. After an eternity of slowly building heat Dean broke away, smiling down at Cas. Then he turned around, tongue swirling over the tip of his partner’s arousal as his own hard length hovered in offering above his angel’s mouth.

“Oh. This is called sixty-nine, right?” Castiel asked, guiding Dean’s hips lower so he could take his cock into his mouth.

Dean’s chuckle was cut off with a moan. “Yeah, Cas,” he breathed before sliding his mouth down over his partner’s heated length, taking it to the hilt. It wasn’t his favorite position since the angle was awkward, but it had some definite advantages, one of them being that when Dean moaned around the cock he was bobbing over, it was reciprocated. Like a feedback loop, each man’s pleasure increased the other’s until they were both moaning continuously, hips thrusting, fucking into each other’s mouths. When Cas’s finger found its way to his hole, pressing in just enough to tease around the inside of the tight ring of muscle Dean groaned. The teasing touch was both more than he could take and not quite enough, ramping up his pleasure in a way that made him hasten to reciprocate, finger pushing into Cas and teasing in the same way. Then they were both moaning and whimpering with escalating need until they seemed to decide at the same time to give in to the other’s need for more, pushing in further to hit each other’s prostates concurrently. Neither could warn when they were about to come, but tightening balls and twitching lengths were enough indication. They both achieved orgasm almost simultaneously, shuddering into each other’s mouths and swallowing down the other’s release. After milking each other through their orgasms Dean barely managed to pull off and turn around before collapsing beside Cas. 

“Dean?” Castiel asked quietly as he licked his lips to make sure he hadn’t missed any.

“Hmm?” Dean replied, pulling Cas against him and smiling as his angel snuggled closer, resting his head on Dean’s chest.

“I think I like sixty-nine. We should definitely do that again sometime,” Castiel stated, his gravely voice sounding sated and lethargic.

Chuckling, Dean said, “Sure. But maybe not tonight. Get some rest. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” When there was no reply, Dean looked down to see Cas smiling, eyes closed, breathing slowly and evenly. “Cas? Are you sleeping?” Dean whispered, not wanting to wake him if he was. No reply. Huh. Wonders never ceased. He knew the angel didn’t need sleep, so the thought he’d worn Cas out enough to want a nap boosted his ego to no end. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured, kissing his partner’s brow and pulling the covers carefully from underneath them to tuck the both of them in as he wondered if angels actually dreamed.

 

*****

 

Waiting in the wings, Dean nervously watched Kendra and Rick doing their ‘favorite revisited’ dance which was a perfectly performed and slightly improved (because it was already pretty damn perfect the first time they did it) fantasy foxtrot. He and Cas would be performing their improved ending version of their zombie waltz next. It wasn’t really that Dean was nervous about the dance itself. Cas had promised to eliminate them from the competition tonight so this was going to be their last performance. Other than whatever shorter dance they did a week from tomorrow for the finale which everyone had to be back for. The nerves were mostly due to the fact that Cas hadn’t said exactly _how_ they would be eliminated. Though also a bit 'cause, if he was being honest with himself, he’d actually miss this. But the case here was solved and they had a rescue mission to start, soon’s Sammy figured out where Gabriel was being held.

This was the fourth week of doing two dances per show and it had been challenging and fun learning/relearning two dances and the opening number in just six days. Last week’s first dance had been ‘changing roles’, where each pair picked a previous dance and reversed roles. Dean and Cas had done their ‘Eye of the Tiger’ paso doble with Cas as the matador and Dean as the bull, though the ending had to be changed because, one, there was no way Dean could toss Cas that high in the air and, B, the angel had refused to ‘hurt the bull’ so they finished the dance with the matador charming the bull till he bowed at his feet. Their second dance, the ‘tainted tango’ was done to Soft Cell’s Tainted Love and they’d traded the lead back and forth throughout the dance. Wearing a blue dress shirt over form-fitting black stretch jeans, Cas started the dance waiting at the ‘bar’ situated at the back of the stage, twirling a long-stemmed rose in his fingers. Entering from stage right, Dean, dressed in jeans and a green tee, crept up behind Cas and stole the rose, moving stage left as the song started up and Cas followed, catching Dean before he reached the edge of the stage and pulling him back. Reclaiming the rose, he tucked it between the buttons of his shirt as they began to tango. The dance was very much a push-pull, torsos always facing away from each other though their gazes kept being drawn back together. At the first chorus Dean stole the rose back, tucking it into the front of his jeans with a saucy smirk and then he took the lead. Next verse had Cas stealing the rose back, tucking it into his long sleeve as he reclaimed control until Dean took it back on the last chorus, tucking it into the back of his jeans this time. The performance ended when Cas tried to take the rose back, putting his arms around Dean’s waist to pull it out, then dropping it when dean pulled his arms further around him, locking Cas’s hands together behind him before wrapping his own arms around Cas, dominance forgotten as they leaned in to kiss, lights going off just before their lips met. It had earned them their first perfect score which is why their waltz was the last performance this week. Even the old dude had liked it, saying it was a fine example of a classic tango.

Tonight, for their new dance, all five remaining couples had to perform a foxtrot, the goal being to see how well each pair did compared to the others. Sergeant had suggested song after song before Dean had finally agreed on Moondance by Van Morrison. Wasn’t his favorite song, but since they couldn’t do the song from Dirty Dancing (because it was too obvious a choice), it didn’t really matter what he picked. But their instructor had developed a decent routine and they’d performed it well, earning them third place out of the five pairs.

When the curtains closed and the stage was cleared of its fantasy forest setting and reset with the piles of rubble for their zombie waltz, Dean snapped out of his reverie. On stage, Cas was overseeing the placement of props, making sure everything was in exact position, as he had ever since that snafu at dress rehearsal weeks ago. Then he was back at Dean’s side, smiling as their hands clasped.

As the curtains opened, Castiel let Dean pull him to the center of the stage, glancing over his shoulder at the nothing chasing them. Stopping in the middle of the stage, he buried himself in Dean’s chest as his partner turned them in a circle, looking for an exit and finding none. Pulling back, they gazed into each other’s eyes, knowing there was no escape and there at the end of the world, nothing else mattered but their love. Beginning their waltz to Metallica’s ‘Nothing Else Matters’, they drifted around the stage, gazes locked, blindly avoiding the piles of rubble. But shortly after the show’s zombie dancers started waltzing toward them, Castiel spotted an unchoreographed presence from the corner of his eye, downstage center and moving toward them, arms outstretched. “Dean,” Castiel warned.

“Shit! I see it.” Dean whispered. How many fucking times did they have to torch remains to get rid of one damn ghost? And then there wasn’t just one ghost, there was a second phantom beside Mike, gesturing up above the stage with a pointed look at Dean before grabbing Mike’s outstretched arms and pulling him into a waltz. Looking up, Dean couldn’t really see anything past the glare of the stage lights. They were almost to the part where Dean was supposed to be bitten by the zombie. “Cas, can you get me up to the catwalk?” he asked urgently.

Without a word, as Dean swung him out of reach of the ‘zombie’, Castiel tossed him high into the air before the ‘zombie’ could grab him, then went into the choreographed fight. Adding a few improvisations, he managed to swing or push all the zombie dancers off the stage, though as he ‘fought’ the last one off the stage he stumbled over a pile of rubble, an audible crunch coming from his ankle. Struggling to stand, weight resting on his left foot rather than the injured right, he found only he and the waltzing ghosts were left on the stage. Lily Vale’s spectral face glared at ghost-Mike with pure loathing as she struggled to keep him away from Castiel, dancing for the audience in her final performance. Realizing she wasn’t going to let him near his living target, and that it was really all her fault he’d died (because if she hadn’t tried to break up with him, fought him off, he never would’ve had to kill her), the former director turned his rage on Lily.

Up on the catwalk, Dean landed shakily and took a moment to steady himself. It took more precious seconds than he would have liked to find what Lily Vale had been pointing him toward, but eventually he discovered a thick rope knotted around the base of one of the poles supporting the short railing. The longer rope coming from the knot was frayed at the end; they must have cut Lily’s body down and never bothered removing the rest of the rope. Patting down his pockets, Dean cursed as he realized he didn’t have anything on him. He hadn’t been expecting any more ghosts and his jeans were tight enough that anything in the pockets would probably have been visible and hampered his movements. But then, a few feet away, he saw his own salt shaker and zippo sitting on the catwalk. Had Lily brought them up here from his dressing room? There wasn’t time to question it, he just snatched them up, shook half the salt onto the rope quickly, causing the ghosts below him to flicker, then flipped the lighter open and lit and held it to the rope. Not having had accelerant, it took more frustratingly long seconds for the fire to take, but then it finally started to burn in earnest. Below him, he watched Lily’s ghostly nails scratch down Mike’s cheeks, adding to the red lines that had already been there, as her former lover’s hands closed around her throat to strangle her a second time. When their spectral forms erupted in flames, Mike screamed his fury while Lily gave him a triumphant smile, having gotten vengeance as her last act. “Cas, catch,” Dean called down too softly for the audience to hear, as both phantoms disappeared along with the flames. Obediently, Cas held out his arms, catching his partner easily and setting him down, all while balanced on one foot. Mindful that they were still in their performance, Dean scooped Cas into his arms just as the lighting crew recovered from their surprise at the improvisations and dimmed the lights down to a spotlight on the pair. As the music played toward its end, Dean and Cas were once again the only things that mattered to each other in the world, gazes full of love as Dean waltzed with Cas in a bridal carry. Sinking to one knee as the song reached its last few notes, he sat his partner on his raised knee, carefully resting his feet on the stage so he had a hand free to take Cas’s left hand and bring it to his lips, kissing the place where a ring would go if they were married as the spotlight cut out.

The thundering applause and cheers from the audience was so loud, Dean was half afraid the ceiling might come down. Soon as the curtains closed, Dean was up and carrying Cas backstage to the medical area where a paramedic and physical therapist were stationed in case any dancers got injured.

“That was quite a spill you took out there. It must be a pretty bad sprain at the very least,” the pt said as Dean set Cas gingerly on the medical bed.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s broken,” Castiel stated tightly, voice strained with pain. When the paramedic began checking the injury the angel gasped and hissed with every gentle poke and prod until the medic confirmed that yes, it was most likely broken. At Castiel’s insistence, the ankle was splinted and taped up tight, crutches loaned to him so that he and Dean could return to the stage for the final scores. Filming had been paused, waiting to see how bad the injury was and if he’d be able to go back on stage or have to leave straight for the hospital. Once the cameras were rolling again, each couple received scores for the ‘favorite revisited’ dance, followed by their combined scores for the night. Dean and Castiel were both surprised and thrilled to get a nine and two tens. All the judges should have taken points for the misstep that had resulted in injury, but the younger guy and the woman had insisted the amazing special effects along with the enhanced fight scene and improved ending, where the characters lived, injured but alive instead of one becoming zombified and turning the partner so they could remain together, warranted the perfect score. Of course, that was unprofessional. Perfect scores should only be given to perfect performances; the older judge was the only one who’d scored them properly, docking a point for the mistake like the others should have, though the audience booed him. Their overall score for the night won them third place, though for obvious reason, Dean and Castiel were the couple eliminated. For some reason, once the filming ended everyone was all over them, expressing condolences. Dean had to put on his ‘hunter’ face and point out that he needed to get Castiel to the hospital before the crew and other contestants would let them leave. Leah walked them out to the Impala, on the pretense of bringing the borrowed crutches back to the theatre.

“Really sorry about your ankle, Cas, but holy wow, that was crazy! That was the ghost, right? Ghosts. Mike Johnson and Lily Vale?”

“Yeah. And this time we know they’re gone for good. They don’t always appear when their bodies or DNA are torched, but when they do and you see them actually flame out like that, you know for sure they’re never comin’ back,” Dean replied.

“Good! Though I feel sorry for Lily. And I think I’ll keep the shaker of salt next to the mace in my purse anyway. Just in case. After all, those can’t be the only two ghosts in the world, right?” Leah grinned.

“Damned right you’re right,” Dean smiled back, handing her a card with his work phone on it. “But if you come across one, don’t try to take it out yourself. Get yourself safe and call us, k?”

“No problem with that, believe me. There’s no way I’d ever try any of that stuff on my own.”

“Good. Take care of yourself.” Dean said, climbing into the driver’s side and starting Baby up. At the tap on his window, he rolled it down, looking up at Leah questioningly.

“You _are_ coming back for the finale next week, aren’t you?” the stagehand asked.

“You can’t expect this broken ankle to be healed by then,” Castiel said, leaning across the front seat so he could see her.

“No, of course not. But even in a cast, I know Carol will want you back next week. You won’t be expected to dance, of course, but you’ll still have to be on camera some. You’ve been so popular and brought such a boost to the show’s ratings. Besides, isn’t it in the contract that you have to return for the live finale no matter what?” Leah asked, obviously very much wanting them to come back.

“Yeah, ok, I get it. We’ll be here for the finale,” Dean promised, giving Leah a thumbs up. “Now, mind if I get my partner to the hospital before he passes out from pain?”

“Oh! Right, sorry, go, go,” Leah said, jumping back from the car. As Dean pealed out, she waved to them, heedless of the crutches clutched in her hand, until they were out of sight.

“Cas, I thought you were against faking an injury,” Dean commented as he drove them back to the motel.

“I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

“Fake the injury. That would have been wrong. My ankle is actually broken,” Castiel replied, wincing when Dean slammed on the brakes.

“What? We’ve got to get you to the hospital! Why didn’t you say something sooner?!” Dean exclaimed.

“Dean, calm down; you’re going to cause an accident. The pain is… manageable. You can put a proper cast on it when we get back to our room."

"Cas, no. You need a real doctor. Or, wait, can't you just heal yourself?"

"I can. After the finale."

"What? Why? Just heal yourself now and then we can put a cast on it. No one will know the difference," Dean suggested as he resumed heading for the motel.

"That would be faking the injury. As I said, we treat it the human way for now then after the finale I will fix it," Castiel replied firmly, voice brokering no argument.

"Why the hell are you so damn stubborn?" Dean grumbled, shoving Cas's shoulder lightly. Still, he couldn't fault the weirdo for having principles, however much he disagreed with them at the moment.

 

*****

 

Eight days later, Dean and Cas were back at the theatre and Dean was pulling Bobby's old wheelchair out of Baby's back seat. "Cas, you sure you're up for this?" he asked as he locked the chair open and helped his angel out of the car.

"Yes, Dean, I'm fine. And before you ask the next question, yes, I'm sure the feds won't be here waiting to ambush you. In addition to you being considered dead, I've altered all the photos and memories of 'Dean Winchester' so no one other than those who know you personally will equate you with the formerly wanted 'criminal'. Plus the show only uses first names, and there are plenty of Deans in the world. You're safe."

"You act like that's the hundredth time I've asked," Dean frowned.

"No, only the seventh," Castiel replied.

"Right," Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Wheels, let's go cut a rug."

Though half tempted to mention there were no rugs on stage and why would they cut them if there were, Castiel just smiled, wheeling his chair to the front entrance where Leah was waiting to let them in (since the side entrance that contestants normally used didn't have a ramp). He knew 'cut a rug' meant dance, but sometimes it was fun to bait Dean. Not tonight though. His partner had been trying to talk him out of attending the finale all week. Initially Dean had been reluctant to even do the competition but over the past weeks he had really come to enjoy it and Castiel knew he hated endings. In addition, this was the longest Dean had stayed in one place in years and they'd both come to enjoy the town and would especially miss their usual diner. Maybe they could come back from time to time.

Eight o'clock found them on stage for the opening number, Cas's wheelchair guided by Dean. No retakes tonight since the whole two hour show was live, time between set changes filled with commercial breaks and talking to all 14 dance teams in front of the curtain. Fortunately there was no need for a retake anyway; no one made any glaring mistakes. Amazed at the packed audience, the fullest they'd ever seen it with people lining the walls along the back and sides, Dean and Cas spent most of the night watching the routines from backstage, trying to decide what the final order would be. Both agreed Kendra and Rick would be first, but Cas thought Lainey and Sean would take second, while Dean was sure it'd be Anne and Josè. Around nine they were ushered in front of the curtain to talk to the host during a scene change.

"You two were predicted to be in the final three up until your bad luck last week. How disappointed are you about having to drop out when you had a shot at taking first place?" the host asked, pointing the microphone somewhere between them. With Cas being in a chair, the mic wasn't really close enough for either of them to be heard.

Dean solved the problem by taking the mic himself, holding it a proper distance and angle from his mouth as he replied for both of them. "We're actually not all that disappointed. Sure, it would've been nice to win, but really, making it as far as we did was a huge surprise to us both. I mean, neither of us had ever danced before. I signed us up to audition on a whim and Cas went along with it, but we didn't even expect to make it onto the show, let alone get to fifth place. But our dance instructor, Natalie, was awesome. She made sure to take our abilities and personalities into account when designing our routines and was great about letting me pick the songs and adapting to accommodate those choices. Really, I think we've both had an awesome time with this and learned things about ourselves and each other we never knew. It's been a great experience for both of us. Anyone thinking about auditioning for next season should go for it. Win or lose, it's all about having fun and challenging yourself to improve."

"Wow, great attitude. Cas, you have anything to add?" the host queried, holding the mic out to Cas this time.

"Getting to enjoy this experience with Dean was worth much more than a broken ankle," he blushed, voice barely loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. When he didn't say anything else, the host took the mic back, thanked them, and then began talking about the next performance while Castiel wheeled himself backstage and Dean followed, holding the curtain open for him to pass.

Back in the wings, Dean crouched beside Cas's wheelchair as they watched the next dance start, this one a tango done by Anne and Josè. "You really think that?" he asked quietly, watching the performance to avoid looking at his partner.

"Of course, Dean," Castiel replied, brows furrowed. "Don't you agree? Or was that big speech you gave just lies for the audience?"

"I agree the competition was a great experience and worth doing, but I don't think it was worth you spending a week in pain with a broken ankle, especially when you could've just healed it if you weren't so stubborn."

"Dean, once you got the bone in place and put the cast on it was fine. Okay, it still hurt a little, but not bad, really."

"Soon's this thing's over though, you're healing it," Dean ordered.

"As soon as we leave town," Castiel corrected. "We still have to go back to the motel, and I think you'd enjoy another meal at the diner before we go."

"So? You said you didn't want to fake it for the show, but that doesn't mean you can't pretend it's still broken soon as the show's over, right?"

"Dean-"

"Don't 'Dean' me, you're healing it after the show and that's final. You can leave the cast on as long as you want, but there's no point you being in pain more than necessary."

"Fine," Castiel sighed. "You know, you can be a bit bossy sometimes."

"More than a bit or sometimes, and damn straight," Dean chuckled, squeezing Cas's shoulder.

Castiel put his hand over Dean's, smiling at the hunter as he used the angel's shoulder to stand back up, knees cracking from having been crouched too long. The look Dean gave him dared him to say anything, but Castiel already knew better. It was unfortunate though; there were so many things he could heal but aging wasn't one of them. They watched the pairs dancing in silence for a while until Castiel wistfully said, "It's a shame we can't do another dance too."

"What are you talking about Cas? Of course we're doing another dance," Dean corrected.

"What? How?"

"I talked to Carol about it before the show, when you were off with Leah. Don't worry, you won't be doing much. But I felt the same way about doing one more dance, and Carol liked my idea, so... yeah. We're the second to last dance, right after Lainey and Sean."

"But Dean, we haven't rehearsed anything."

"Just trust me Cas, I promise the audience will love it."

Castiel trusted Dean, of course, but that didn't stop him from waiting nervously until Lainey and Sean finished their number and Dean wheeled him to the back of the stage, parking his chair in the center. The stage was cleared and remained that way as Dean returned to the stage left wings. Left alone on stage as the curtains opened, Castiel could only look around, eyes wide, wondering what he was expected to do. Then the lights dimmed, a disco ball dangling from somewhere above began throwing rainbow-colored dots of light around the room, rotating slowly as music started up and Dean walked over to Castiel and held a hand out to him. Taking the offered hand, Castiel looked up at Dean quizzically.

Smiling, Dean pulled Cas forward with the hand he was holding, using his free hand to reach under the angel's arm and around his back, hand gripping under his left arm to lift him up from the wheelchair, setting him lightly on top of Dean's feet. Blinking down at Dean for once, since being on top of the hunter's boots put him an inch or so taller instead of his normal two inches shorter, Cas looked confused. Not that it was a new look on him. "Cas, put your arms around my shoulders," Dean smiled, sliding his own down around his angel's waist and holding him close as he began to shuffle his Cas-covered feet in a loose circle that wandered aimlessly around the stage as Aerosmith's 'Don't Wanna Miss a Thing' played. Of course, it wasn't ballroom dancing; they looked like a couple teens at a school dance, which had been Dean's intent. As he'd expected, the audience ate it up, cheering and crying through the whole song, which played to the end instead of stopping after the first chorus as Dean had requested. He'd thought the audience would get bored with the repetitious swaying if it went too long, but apparently Carol knew better. When the song finally ended the volume in the theatre rose to deafening levels. Dean grinned at Cas, kissing him lightly before helping him back into the wheelchair. Then he wheeled him to center stage and took his hand. They both bowed, Cas a bit awkwardly in his chair, hands clasped together, and then bowed again as the curtains closed, barely muting the continued thunderous applause. Grinning, they made their way backstage, then watched as the curtain reopened.

The host came back onto the stage, calling up the three finalist couples. After interminable minutes ramping up the anticipation, the host finally announced that there was a tie for second place. Then there was more talking to prolong the moment, since once the second places were announced, first place would be obvious. Finally, when the crowd was ramped up to the point where they couldn't wait any longer, the host declared, "And so, tied for second place, in no particular order, Anne and Josè, and Lainey and Sean; first place goes to Kendra and Rick!" The crowd erupted in noise again and Dean and Cas backstage shared a grin. Turned out they'd both been right with their guesses on order.

Curtains closed again and the stage was reset for the winners to perform the dance they'd learned for in case they won (all three had rehearsed a 'winners routine' in case they won, though the second place pairs wouldn't get to perform theirs). It was a pretty spectacular salsa that was a perfect ending to the show. Once it was done the curtains closed just long enough for the stage to be cleared, then reopened as all the season's contestants trooped back onstage.

"We'd like to thank all our contestants from this season for their contributions to the show and for being here tonight," the host said. Each pair stepped forward as their names were announced in order of elimination, cheers getting louder each time. "We'd also like to thank all our audiences and viewers at home for both encouraging our dancers and voting tonight to add your choices to the judges scores. And as so many of you requested, no, demanded, on twitter and our facebook page, we added a second vote this year; most popular pair. As explained on the voting website, this was for the couple you found most entertaining, not just the best dancers. It was close, but... ok, no, it wasn't really close. It was actually a landslide. Cas and Dean, get over here!" Surprised, Dean wheeled Cas over to the host. "Got anything to say?"

"I... We... This... Holy sh- err, wow, this is so unexpected. I'm kinda speechless. I think the only thing to say, really, is thank you guys so much! Y'all are awesome!" Dean said into the mic that was pointed at him.

"Err... What Dean said," Castiel blushed when given his turn to comment.

When the cheers finally started to die down Dean went to wheel Cas back to the other contestants but the host stopped him with a hand on the back of the chair and a slight shake of the head.

"Let's have the winners out here too," the host said, waving the three finalist pairs forward. "As you all know, the first place winners get five hundred thousand dollars." Kendra and Rick raised their joined hands as the audience cheered. "Now normally, second place gets three hundred fifty thousand dollars and third gets one hundred fifty. But since we had a tie, we've combined those prizes and split it evenly, two hundred fifty thousand each for Lainey and Sean, and Anne and Josè." Each couple raised clasped hands as the audience cheered them. "And, thanks to so many of you wonderful folks watching at home, our new category of winners, 'popular pair', will be going home with one hundred thousand dollars!" Dean and Cas blinked at each other, stunned expressions slowly widening into huge grins as they clasped their hands together and raised them as high as Cas could reach from the chair. "Thank you all so much, to our contestants, our winners, and all of you watching tonight both here in the audience and there at home. It's thanks to all of you that this has been the best season of DANCE ever! We hope to have all you viewers back for another great season next year!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, happy ending :D sorry it took so long to get this one up (again), but after being out of town for a few days when i got home and started writing i realized this was going to be the last chapter and i'd already had Crowley cheat them to the end of their hunt, leaving a lack of action for the rest of the story and who the hell wants to go out with a whimper? right? fortunately, i had a new fic to work on while trying to figure out what to do with this one, and then the inspiration of the ghosts showing up while dean and cas were on stage hit and i was back to working on this one, though it still took a while to get it all out. so, for those who've stuck through this one while it was in progress, thanks for the support :D your comments give me great encouragement when the words won't come and my fingers forget the flow :D
> 
> there will be more in the Blunt to the Point of Love continuum, but first i'm planning to alternate between two different stories: a new fic set in a dystopian future, which will be darker and have less smut than anything i've posted so far (based on a dream that i woke up from thinking 'damn, why isn't that a movie? 'cause i _so_ want to watch that again!); and Life of a Couple, the last story in the Heavenly Body series, which will have a number of chapters highlighting points in the futures of dean/cas, sam/gabe, and charlie/meg :D ugh, i just realized i'll be switching between past and present tense stories  >.< but i still plan to do it, because for those who aren't fans of the darker dystopian future story they'll still have heavenly body fun and fluff to come back for :D
> 
> As always, questions, comments, suggestions, and corrections encouraged and appreciated! i really do get so much inspiration from your comments!


End file.
